


Reflections

by Lynse



Category: Danny Phantom, Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja
Genre: Alliances, Canon divergent for RC:9GN, Crossover, Friendship, Gen, Ghosts, Misconceptions, Secrets, Suspense, getting off on the wrong foot, plots to destroy the Ninja
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-03-19 19:52:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 162,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3622176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynse/pseuds/Lynse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first, Danny didn’t think Norrisville was haunted—but that was before his ghost sense went off and he found this Ninja terrorizing the local high school. And at first, Randy didn’t think anything of the new kid who turned up to laugh at him—but that was before he almost got fried by a laser and realized he was dealing with McFist’s lackey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For _Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja_ , this takes place in the second season, sometime around _Shoot First, Ask Questions Laser_. For _Danny Phantom_ , it’ll either just pretend _Phantom Planet_ doesn’t exist or occur before it, sometime late in the final season. Standard disclaimers apply.
> 
> Cover image by the amazing [WhiteWolfGirl91](http://whitewolfgirl91.deviantart.com/), AKA [anonymous.bat](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/6794432/), as posted on DeviantArt.

The Fenton family didn’t often go on family vacations or family bonding trips. And even considering how much his mom was on his back about his dismal grades, Danny wasn’t overly suspicious that she was willing to pull him and Jazz out of class for the rest of the week. He _was_ a little suspicious that the only explanation they got was that they were investigating the possibility of making a deal with some big company about manufacturing some FentonWorks products on a large scale and that involving them in this decision would be good for them.

Sure, his dad always stuffed the back of the Fenton Family Ghost Assault Vehicle with ghost hunting equipment, at least when Jazz wasn’t there telling him not to, and it _would_ make sense to bring along a large array of their products if they were going to even think about mass production, but this still didn’t sit right with him.

Jazz handed Danny a duffel bag, startling him out of his stupor. “Did you get any sleep last night?” she asked.

Danny blinked at her, looked at the bag—the zipper wasn’t closed all the way, and he could see one of his shirts right at the top—and then back at her. “A little?”

“Good, because you obviously weren’t awake at the dinner table when Mom and Dad sprang this trip on us.”

Jazz had packed for him. Danny moved to put the bag in the back. “Not exactly,” he admitted. “Is it going to be a long trip? All Mom told me this morning was to either eat faster or finish my cereal on the way. And that I should be more organized, because this has the potential to be a big opportunity for all of us. And you heard Dad.” 

“You’d think this was a done deal the way he talks about it,” Jazz agreed, her own bag hitting the Assault Vehicle with the telltale _thump_ of heavy textbooks. “It’ll take us through the weekend, I think, but I don’t know if we’ll miss much if any of next week. It depends on how quickly they come to an agreement, if they come to one at all. Mom and Dad might get cold feet about handing over their designs to anyone if there’s even the slightest possibility of the Guys in White ripping them off again.”

Maybe that’s why this didn’t sit right with him. Despite how quickly his parents had sold out to the Guys in White when they’d been offered an insane amount of money, they were connected to their work. It felt…odd that they’d even be thinking about giving any part of it up. Or that there was a company out there that would even consider marketing ghost hunting weapons when it clearly wasn’t based in Amity Park.

It was a good thing Jazz didn’t think the trip would take too long, though. He hadn’t even had a chance to warn Sam and Tucker. They had house keys anyway, and Tuck could get into the Weapons Vault easily enough if he needed to, so it wasn’t like they’d run short of supplies if one of the ghosts decided to attack. Valerie would be out patrolling, too. It should be fine, and it wouldn’t take him long to catch them up once he texted them.

Besides, Amity Park never seemed to suffer a _major_ ghost attack whenever he wasn’t around. Whether that was due to Vlad’s influence or not, Danny wasn’t sure, but he could be thankful for small mercies. He hated the idea of leaving his town unprotected.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do once he actually finished high school, but he figured he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

“So do you know how long it’ll take us to get there, wherever there is?”

Jazz snorted. “You really did ignore everything, didn’t you? I’m surprised you didn’t fall asleep in your spaghetti. We’re going to Norrisville. And our ETA depends on how long Dad’s behind the wheel.”

Danny figured there wasn’t much point in asking exactly where Norrisville was when he’d obviously find out soon enough, because Jazz might not answer him anyway. “So, a day?” he ventured.

“Half, if Dad’s driving.”

“Fun.” Good thing he’d charged his phone last night. Though, since Sam and Tucker were actually going to be in class, he wouldn’t be getting into any lengthy conversations with either of them for a while. But on the upside, he could catch up on his sleep. Maybe it was all the acrobatics he ended up doing while flying, but his dad’s driving didn’t bother him nearly as much as it used to. 

Well, that was probably because he knew he could phase them through anything they might hit and there was a good chance Jack wouldn’t even notice, but still. He could get some shuteye. Jazz would wake him up if they were in more danger than usual, and his ghost sense would wake him up if someone decided to follow them like on their _last_ family vacation.

“Hey, Danny-boy, Jazzy-pants,” Jack bellowed from the house. “Have you seen the Fenton Peeler?”

It was in a box under Jazz’s bed, somewhere his parents wouldn’t think to look for it but easy enough to find if Jazz ever needed it. “No,” Danny answered. 

“Me neither, Dad. Sorry.”

Jack frowned. “Funny. I thought it was in with the Ghost Gauntlets. I guess we’ll just have to take the spare!”

Danny turned to Jazz as their father bounded away. “The spare?” he repeated.

Jazz shrugged. “He probably built it when he couldn’t find the other one. I’ll hide it when we get back home. But it’ll be all right; that one won’t be field tested, and it’s not like we’re going to a haunted town. You don’t have any reason to worry.”

“ _You don’t have any reason to worry_ ,” Danny parroted. “Yeah, right. Why don’t I believe you?” 

“Not every city in America is as weird as Amity Park,” Jazz reminded him. “It’ll be fine.”

“Famous last words,” Danny muttered, but he let the subject drop. Jazz was usually right, after all. How bad it could really be? If worst came to worst and Vlad couldn’t stop something major from going down in Amity Park, Danny could fly home. It wouldn’t be easy—he’d have to grab a map or he’d get _really_ lost—but it was definitely doable. Jazz could cover for him. 

So why couldn’t he shake the bad feeling he had?

-|-

“And…Ninja Slice!” Randy grinned to himself as his sword sliced off the head of the giant robot. McFist—well, Viceroy, because he knew Viceroy built all of McFist’s robots and everything else that was sent to destroy the Ninja—had made a handful of robots he _couldn’t_ destroy by slicing off their heads. Sometimes it was because their heads were simply too big to _get_ them in one slice, in which case he took them out—or off—another way. Sometimes it was because Viceroy was experimenting with some kind of learning circuitry and the thing figured out how to anticipate his moves before he got to the head-slicing bit. Sometimes it was because Viceroy moved whatever vital part Randy needed to destroy or otherwise disconnect from the rest of the robot. 

But they were still experimenting and they hadn’t found something that worked consistently. Because he was an awesome Ninja. 

Okay, so he had help in a few other ways when he needed it. But mostly it was because he was an awesome Ninja. 

Randy turned and bowed to the crowd of students that had gathered outside the school come the robot attack. He hadn’t gotten out of the school himself in time to save Principal Slimovitz’s car, but the man either had a lot of money (doubtful, unless he was siphoning it off from various school funds) or multiple, identical cars (also doubtful) or a remarkably good mechanic and really good insurance (slightly more likely), so Randy didn’t feel too bad. A little collateral damage was unavoidable. It wasn’t like he hadn’t stopped the monster. Or robot, in this case.

“Thank you, thank you.” He gave a little wave from his precarious place on the side of the robot’s head. He couldn’t revel in the attention the Ninja got most of the time, so he made the most of it when he could. It kind of—but not really—made up for the fact that everyone thought he was next to the bottom of the social food chain at school. “Smoke bomb!”

Randy rejoined the crowd trickling back into the school and caught up to Howard. “Awesome moves, am I right?”

“Eh.” Howard shrugged. “You looked a little rusty to me.”

Randy stared at him. “How can I be _rusty_?” he asked incredulously. “This is, like, the tenth time this week I’ve had to Ninja out! And it’s only _Wednesday_.” And only _once_ had it been because the Sorcerer had managed to stank someone. Well, the entire basketball team, after a particularly dismal practice that had had them questioning their chances of making it anywhere this year. But _still_.

“Yeah, but when that thing got you by the scarf, you totally didn’t mean to wrap its legs together. That was definitely a fluke.”

“It was not!”

Howard shook his head. “I’m not buying it, Cunningham.”

Randy sighed, making a big show of giving in. “ _Fine_. But you gotta agree that that was good thinking on my part, right? Making it work to my advantage and all?”

“Yeah, sure.” Howard paused outside the classroom door. “But you coulda at least gotten the history classroom demolished this time. Unless you finished our report?”

Randy blinked. “Report?”

“What, you think _I_ was going to do it all? I have important stuff to do, bro. You know that.”

Randy narrowed his eyes. “Playing Grave Puncher 10 without me and trying out the newest snacks at Greg’s Food Hole doesn’t count.”

“C’mon, it’s _Grave Puncher 10_.”

“Yeah, but _without me_.” 

“Grave Puncher 10,” Howard repeated solemnly. “And you’ll have about five minutes once we get in there to finish the report.”

Randy groaned but followed Howard into the classroom. There was no point in arguing. Randy might not finish—or remember—their homework half the time, but Howard liked doing it less than he did, and Randy figured he usually did a better job. Slightly.

Well, he was still passing everything, anyway—Ds were passing—which probably wouldn’t be the case if _every_ assignment he handed in was awful.

Of course, it wouldn’t be the case if Mr. Bannister didn’t give out Bs for what he called good metaphors and what Randy called quick thinking and getting lucky, either. He’d gotten through by the skin of his teeth more than once.

They had been sitting at their desks for a grand total of maybe two minutes before screaming and what was definitely the sound of metal rending began.

“Another one?” Randy asked in disbelief as he watched what looked like a giant robot crab take out the nearest streetlight with one snap of its pinchers.

“Look at it this way,” Howard suggested. “We probably won’t have to hand in our history report.”

The crab began scuttling its way toward the school. For such a big robot, the thing was surprisingly quiet when it wasn’t destroying stuff. That probably wasn’t good.

“They can’t have that many more left,” Randy said, more to himself than to Howard. “What’s he trying to do, clear out a room or something? Why doesn’t he just build an abandoned factory on the edge of town again? Why send these things back to back?”

“Maybe he’s trying to wear you out,” Howard suggested. “C’mon, Cunningham. Snap to it. Make sure I don’t have to finish that history report today.”

Randy rolled his eyes but got to his feet and grabbed his bag. “I just, uh, need to go the bathroom,” he stammered to the teacher. “I’ll meet you guys outside!” The school was not considered the safest place during robot and/or monster attacks, and they’d taken to having monster drills and ‘safe meeting places’ like they would for a fire. And most people did stay out of the way, but there was almost always a crowd that gathered when he got around to fighting, and people kinda took it for granted that he’d save them. So, claiming he’d meet everyone outside was perfectly valid.

It probably wasn’t normal anywhere besides Norrisville, because really, how many schools regularly got attacked by obviously-not-natural stuff?

Not likely a lot.

Other schools didn’t have a sorcerer trapped in a pit beneath them or something else that necessitated a town hero.

But for the most part, Randy liked it. Not so much the getting-slammed-into-things part or the regularly-almost-dying part, but he got a certain thrill from it all, and everyone always cheered on the Ninja—even McFist, when he was in public and he had to. It gave Randy a certain sense of satisfaction.

Because he was an awesome Ninja, and McFist couldn’t win—no matter what he was planning that meant he had Viceroy fixing up and sending out every single one of their prototypes.

-|-

“Why isn’t this working, Viceroy?” Hannibal McFist demanded as he watched the Robo-Crab get destroyed by the Ninja when the reverse was supposed to be happening. “This is supposed to be working!”

Viceroy sighed. “Maybe it’s not working because these are just prototypes, sir?”

“Well, what idiot let you send out all these prototypes?”

Viceroy raised an eyebrow and hit a button on his McFist Pad, triggering Otto to call up a holographic record of his previous meeting with his boss. _“I need this room cleared out!”_ McFist declared. _“Send everything out after the Ninja! I don’t care if they’re prototypes or not!”_

The hologram blinked out, and McFist made a face. “You were supposed to fix everything up first,” he snapped. 

The Ninja, which was still on the screen showing the live feed in front of Norrisville High, disappeared in a burst of red smoke, and Viceroy hit the code on his controller that would alert the Robo-Apes to the mess and have them clean up what could be salvaged of the vanquished robot. As far as Norrisville’s citizens were concerned, that was a service McFist Industries provided in an effort to keep Norrisville running smoothly. It was difficult to get around, after all, when pieces of a defeated robot littered the streets.

The townspeople never dreamed the clean up effort was because McFist Industries was trying to learn more about the Ninja from the damage and build the next Weapon of Ninja Destruction accordingly.

Viceroy flicked a piece of lint off his lab coat before shutting off the live feed. “I still don’t see why you’re even entertaining this notion of manufacturing these Fenton products.”

“They’re inventors, and nothing _you’ve_ invented recently has even come _close_ to destroying the Ninja!”

“So you think a weapon designed to hunt ghosts will?”

McFist snorted derisively. “Ghosts aren’t real,” he said shortly. “Maybe, if they were, I could actually be scared on Halloween again!”

Viceroy didn’t want to get into this debate again, partly because he was still trying to forget how terrified he’d been last Halloween. “Then why did I just clean out a store room so you can see all _their_ prototypes?”

“They promised me working weapons. And weapons are weapons. And sometimes _you_ need fresh ideas, Viceroy.”

Viceroy rolled his eyes but knew better than to argue when McFist got these ideas into his head. “Should I have tables set out, sir?”

“Of course!” McFist barked. “Didn’t I tell you to do that already?”

“No, sir,” Viceroy answered in the special, long-suffering tone of voice he reserved specifically for conversations with Hannibal McFist. “I’ll get right on that.” He moved to the door but paused before exiting. “Have you informed the Sorcerer of your plan, sir?”

McFist immediately lost his bluster. “Uh, er….” He chewed his lip for a second, then smashed his fist onto his desk, scattering the few papers he had on it. “I’m working on it!”

Viceroy smiled smugly. He knew exactly how much the Sorcerer unnerved McFist, but they’d taken the job, and the benefits of doing so were good despite their failure thus far and the promise of the reward was tantalizing. “Of course you are, sir.”

-|-

To Danny’s surprise, he didn’t wake up until they got there. He straightened up in his seat and looked over to Jazz, who mimed pulling something out of her ear. Danny frowned but reached up and suddenly realized he’d been wearing Fenton Plugs. “I didn’t put these in,” he said. Normally, if he wore them for any length of time, his ears started to hurt—despite the fact that they were made out of foam that moulded to his ears.

“You’re normally a pretty light sleeper,” Jazz said, “but I think I got you when you were in your deepest stage of sleep. You didn’t wake up, anyway, and with those in, you didn’t hear when Mom and Dad started blasting tunes from their college days.” No doubt seeing Danny still frowning down at the pair of Fenton Plugs in his hand, she added, “I had Mom make me some smaller ones. That was my spare set.”

“Huh.” Danny shoved them into his pocket. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You needed to sleep. And at least now, you don’t look like a zombie.”

“Gee, thanks.” Their parents were already outside, so Danny followed suit. When his feet hit the ground, he looked up and froze in place. “Whoa.” 

It was a giant pyramid.

Not a _real_ pyramid, or at least not a real pyramid made of stone or anything like that. It was an office building. Shaped like a pyramid. All gleaming black glass, polished metal, and sleek framework.

“Welcome to McFist Industries,” Jazz muttered, sidling up to him and handing him a box of ghost hunting gadgets.

“ _These_ are the people Mom and Dad are thinking of cutting a deal with?” Danny asked. He hadn’t seen Vlad’s head office, but— “They look like they could rival VladCo. You’re telling me these people believe in ghosts?”

Jazz shrugged. “Who knows? They don’t have to believe in what they’re selling if they’re trying to target what they think is a particularly gullible subset of the population. Not all businesspeople have scruples.”

“Yeah, that’s not a newsflash,” Danny muttered, thinking of how Vlad had amassed his wealth. Something still didn’t sit right about this whole thing. “Jazz,” he asked slowly, “do you, um, really think this is why Mom and Dad came here? With us? Now?”

Jazz blew out a breath and hefted her own box of FentonWorks equipment. “Honestly? I’m not sure. They wouldn’t hesitate if it was an opportunity to teach us about ghosts. But business? Mom, maybe, but Dad….” She trailed off. They both looked over at their father, who was somehow managing to juggle the Fenton Bazooka, Fenton Weasel, Fenton Ghost Gloves, and the Fenton Ghost Catcher. Danny doubted anyone lesser could hold them all without dropping anything.

With a sigh, Danny put his box of weaponry on the ground. “Tell Mom and Dad I had to go to the bathroom if they ask,” he said. “I’m going to do a quick scout of the town, make sure we _aren’t_ dealing with ghosts.”

“Danny—”

“I’ll stay invisible and be back in no time,” Danny assured her. He climbed back into the Assault Vehicle and added, “Promise.”

Jazz frowned but didn’t argue. “Be careful.”

Danny slipped into the washroom and immediately went ghost, turning invisible and (temporarily) intangible and getting as far away from his parents and all their weapons as possible. Norrisville was bigger than Amity Park, and the pyramid that was McFist Industries overlooked the entire town. Danny flew low and started scouting in ever-widening circles, waiting for the familiar cold that was his ghost sense to swell in his chest.

It never came.

He stopped by the abandoned fudge factory on the outskirts of town. (Jack would be disappointed it had closed.) He hadn’t checked the swamp yet or the lake or the mountain in the distance (one mountain? Really? Was that normal?), and he had flown fairly quickly while doing his patrol, but his ghost sense didn’t fail him, and it had a decent range. 

He’d still nip over to those places just be safe, but he was pretty sure he was the only ghost in this town.

Except that didn’t make sense, because his parents wouldn’t just randomly decide to get someone to mass produce their products now. If they really did just want that, they could have turned to Vlad. As much as Danny hated that idea, Vlad wouldn’t turn them down if it meant he had a chance to see more of Maddie. And turning to Good Ol’ Vladdy should’ve been the first thing his dad had suggested.

Instead, they’d reached out to a company he’d never heard of in a town that was—since he hadn’t known of its existence until this morning—probably in an entirely different state. 

He could see not leaving him home alone after the damage from the party that one time and the fact that he’d used the Emergency Ops Centre. Though his parents had been slightly more forgiving once they’d realized he’d used it for its intended purpose of battling ghosts, he’d still gotten grounded for a month. But they thought of Jazz as the responsible one; they should have no problem with leaving her behind.

But his mom had been pretty insistent that this was a _family_ trip, even if it meant pulling them out of school.

Despite the fact that he was still failing half his classes.

Despite the fact that something like this could have waited until they’d actually had a school break.

“I don’t get it,” Danny muttered as he started over the swamp. “What’s so special about this place?”

Danny was so intent on trying to figure out the mysteries that must be hidden in Norrisville that he forgot to stay invisible. And while he was hypersensitive to the presence of ghosts, he was less attune to weird people living in a swamp—especially when he was puzzling over why the heck his parents would come _here_ , of all places. And that was perhaps why he didn’t notice the crazy guy with the alligators until the rope tightened around his feet and he hit the mud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though this chapter is heavy on the setup, things will get rolling soon. Also, a special thank you to Wooster and Dream Theme from over on FF.net for putting up with me as I've been planning this out.


	2. Chapter 2

“Well now, who be in _my_ swamp?”

Danny wiped the slime out of his eyes and wondered how the heck he’d gotten captured by this fruitloop when Skulker hadn’t gotten the jump on him in weeks. True, he wouldn’t have any trouble escaping—it was ordinary rope and ordinary swamp gunk; nothing he couldn’t phase through—but this wasn’t Amity Park. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to start rumours of ghosts where there weren’t any and give his parents an excuse to be extra vigilant while they were here or to stay an extra week searching for swamp ghosts—especially when he was around to set off all their machines.

And he still had this general ‘bad feeling’ that he couldn’t jack up to just him getting captured, so he wasn’t so sure he wanted anyone to know exactly what he could do, either, because for all he knew, the trees had eyes.

He’d met Undergrowth and killer Christmas trees. It was definitely possible.

Although, if the weird thing about this place was the presence of ghosts, then his ghost sense should’ve gone off, and it hadn’t, which brought him back to square one.

He’d really rather a ghost at this point, though. Aside from the fact that he could find a way to beat it, it would give his parents one other target when they started showing off all their weapons. Because if they so much as caught wind that Phantom was in town, they’d be on him before he could blink— _long_ before Jazz had any hope of distracting his dad with fudge.

“Catfish got your tongue, boy?” Judging by his tone and the grin on his face, he seemed to take a perverse pleasure in his latest capture—or maybe in what he was saying. Danny wasn’t sure. He just…. He didn’t like the vibe he got off the guy. He kinda reminded him of Freakshow, and Danny did _not_ want any reminders of Freakshow.

They didn’t look similar. They weren’t built anything alike; the guy leaning over him was short but stocky, with muscles to rival Dash’s, and this guy had a heck of a lot of hair. Maybe it was the crazy look in his eyes, like Danny was something new and something altogether _his_.

“It don’t matter,” the man said dismissively. “You crisscrossin’ on my popaty, that all I need to know.” He frowned at Danny for a few seconds before reaching up to a pouch on his neck and announcing, “You look weasely, an’ I don’t trust no weasels. Me, I got a little something-something for insurance-like.” His sudden grin was maniacal, and Danny recoiled. “This here be my gris-gris, an’—”

Danny hadn’t intended to use his ghost powers. Well, not yet. He’d figured, act normal, maybe pretend he hadn’t been flying but had just been…jumping from tree to tree or swinging on vines or something. He could get away when this guy wasn’t looking, easy, and that would be that. Let the guy think he was practicing to be an escape artist or something. 

And then the guy had mentioned gris-gris, and all Danny could think about was some stuff Sam had talked to him about after the first time he’d met Freakshow, and there was _no way_ he was hanging around to see if this creep’s voodoo was the sort he wanted to steer clear from. 

Before Swamp Guy had pulled open the string on the top of his pouch-amulet-thing, Danny had turned intangible, blinked out of sight, and begun hightailing it back to Jazz and McFist Industries. He wasn’t going _near_ that swamp again—something that might be easier said than done, considering how big it was, but if his parents really were just here to talk to Mr. McFist, it shouldn’t be a problem.

But there was no way he was going to risk getting hypnotized or otherwise under anyone’s control.

Danny’s phone rang, but he ignored it. He was nearly back to Jazz anyway, and she should quit worrying so much. Technically, nothing bad had happened. It could have. It just hadn’t. And he probably wouldn’t tell her quite how close it had gotten to potentially being bad.

Danny didn’t bother stopping at the Assault Vehicle; he made a beeline for the building, passed through half a dozen rooms—the guy had a lot of robot apes; it was weird, like they were his staff or something—and finally found a washroom. He changed back, took a moment to catch his breath, and ran out to find the others.

He made it about two steps outside the room before alarms started going off—flashing red lights, sirens, the whole bit—and two robot apes cornered him. The one on his right picked him up with one hand. “This is a restricted area,” it said. “You should not be here.”

The robot apes really _were_ like his staff. Tucker should’ve been here; he would’ve loved this, if he stopped laughing at the fact Danny had gotten caught twice this quickly to even appreciate it all. Danny wasn’t sure if the robots could read facial expressions, but he couldn’t exactly lift up his hands when he was stuck in a robot fist, so he tried a nervous smile. “Um, sorry,” he said. “I kinda got separated and turned around. I’m with the Fentons. Name’s Danny. Can you, uh, point me in the right direction?”

The robots stared at him for a moment. Danny probably would have squirmed under the scrutiny if he’d had the wiggle room, because it felt like they were analyzing him and committing his face to memory or checking it against some kind of database or something. Finally, “They will be in Storage Bay Three.” The robot ape put him down and added, “Please follow me.”

Danny trailed after it, acutely aware that the second robot was following _him_ —probably to make sure he didn’t touch anything or try to sneak off. He wasn’t sure what he thought about these things. On one hand, he could appreciate how cool this was. They were robots—talking robots—and Danny knew exactly how awesome that was. But on the other hand….

Why did this guy need so many robots? Sure, not everyone wanted to do grunt work, and robots helped out on assembly lines a lot, but surely McFist Industries would be even more beloved by the people in town if they actually _employed_ a large number of them. Security was what Val’s dad did, so it’s not like that was something routinely replaced by machines.

But so far, Danny hadn’t actually run into anyone else who was flesh and blood.

Vlad employed a lot of ghosts, sure, but even he had real people on his staff. Of his companies, anyway, if not in his mansion.

This just seemed…weird.

They finally got to the right room—Danny knew this because the robot apes stepped aside to herd him through first the minute the sliding door opened—and he could see real people at last. Well, two others besides his family. But everyone was staring at him, and the skinny guy in the lab coat cut off mid-sentence, and the bigger guy narrowed his eyes at him in a way Danny knew was not exactly friendly.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I kinda got lost.”

Jazz was giving him a critical look, like she could read what had happened on his face, so Danny hastily tried to rearrange his expression into something more sheepish than suspicious or nervous or whatever it looked like now. 

Maddie came to his rescue. “Oh, there you are, sweetie,” she said, stepping forward to pull him away from his robot guards. “Mr. McFist and Mr. Viceroy were just explaining a bit about McFist Industries.” She was giving him a wide smile that was too strained to be genuine.

There were definitely here for some reason besides what they’d been told, though why they _hadn’t_ been told was baffling.

Or maybe he was just surprised his dad had managed to keep it a secret for this long.

“And you’re just in time to help us start testing the weapons, Danny-boy!” Jack piped in, tossing him a Jack-o’-Nine-Tails.

Danny caught it before it smacked into his forehead, but it was a near thing. “Wonderful,” he muttered as Maddie ushered him into position beside Jazz.

The scientist—Mr. Viceroy, if Danny had to guess, seeing as he was in a lab coat and the shorter man was in a suit that more befitted the head of a company—gave him one last scrutinizing look. “As I was saying,” he continued, “McFist Industries has manufactured a wide range of products. Despite your obvious specialization, the company is more than equipped to handle….”

Danny tuned out whatever Viceroy was saying and leaned closer to Jazz. “It’s clear,” he whispered. He thought he’d spoken softly enough that no one besides her would be able to make out what he was saying, but one of the robot apes turned to look in his direction and he wasn’t so sure. He wished he had a better idea of what their range for picking up conversation and stuff was. He’d have to give Tucker a call when they got out of here.

Jazz frowned. “Are you sure?” she asked quietly.

The robot ape was definitely listening to them. “Yeah. I’ll fill you in later, okay?”

Jazz pressed her lips into a thin line, but her eyes darted to the adults and then to the robots before settling back onto him. “Okay,” she agreed. “As soon as we can get away.” She straightened up, scooped up a Fenton Thermos from the table of FentonWorks inventions set up on her other side, and stepped forward. “Pardon me, Mr. Viceroy. I don’t mean to imply any failings on the part of your work or McFist Industries itself, but have you ever seen a ghost?”

Danny gaped at her before catching himself. “You do know that thermos is empty, right?” he hissed.

She acknowledged him with a slight nod and held up a hand to cut off whatever their mother was about to say. “I never used to believe in ghosts,” she admitted. “I thought my parents were crazy. I was mortified that they were committing all their time and energy and practically our entire family savings to building something as ludicrous as a ghost portal, all because of some ridiculous theory they had.” Jazz paused. “I was dead wrong,” she said, turning slightly to wink at Danny. He winced; her attempts at puns were worse than his. “And this, right here? It’s not a soup thermos. It’s the first invention my parents ever made that I realized actually _worked_. I mean, sure, by then we had this freaky ghost portal in our basement, but I’d already started to find ways to explain that away. And then I saw my first real ghost.” 

Viceroy was frowning. “Miss Fenton—”

Jazz uncapped the thermos and activated it. “This technology,” she said over the whine of the thermos, “has been adapted to recharge itself from harnessed ecto-energy. It’s groundbreaking. It’s not a design you’d be able to copy easily, and certainly not if you have no working knowledge of ghosts.” She shut off the thermos, tightly screwing the lid in place. “Have you any experience that would qualify you to even _begin_ dealing with that sort of thing?”

“Of course we have!” McFist snapped. “Haven’t we, Viceroy?”

The scientist’s lip curled. “You needn’t worry that we are inexperienced, Miss Fenton. We do not make decisions to enter into partnerships such as this lightly, and I can assure you that my own personal experience more than qualifies me to pursue this undertaking even if I have not encountered ghosts before. You do realize, do you not, that we are not looking to buy out FentonWorks but rather to make an investment in your parents’ company? They would be aware of every step we took.”

“It’s all right, honey,” Maddie said, putting a hand on Jazz’s arm. “We know what we’re doing.”

Jazz pulled a face. “Of course,” she said stiffly. “You always know what you’re doing, and you always know what’s best for us, don’t you?”

Maddie clearly recognized Jazz’s tone. “Sweetie—”

Jazz very deliberately moved away from their mother and took the Jack-o’-Nine-Tails out of Danny’s hands to put it back on the table with the Fenton Thermos. “Danny and I are going to go for a walk,” she said, grabbing him by the wrist. “We’ll see ourselves out, thanks.”

“But, Jazzy-pants, we haven’t even—”

“We don’t need to be here while you show everything you’ve invented to people who think you’re crackpots, Dad,” Jazz interrupted. “Come on, Danny.”

Danny might not know exactly what Jazz was doing, but he knew enough not to protest. She didn’t stop when they got outside, though. She kept going until they were at least a block and a half away before dragging him down a back alley. “What was _that_?” Danny asked, rubbing his wrist now that she’d finally released it.

Jazz tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “A way to get us out of there.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Just tell me what you found out.”

“I didn’t really find anything out,” Danny said. “We would’ve been better off staying there.”

“Don’t pretend nothing happened. You were white as a sheet when you got back.”

At least she hadn’t said _white as a ghost_ , though if she had, he would’ve felt better. “My ghost sense never went off,” Danny explained. “Look, don’t freak out or anything, but—”

“How am I supposed to not _freak out_ when you premise it like _that_?”

“Just let me finish, okay? I’ve scouted pretty much everything in town. I didn’t make it out to the mountain or the lake, but honestly, if Mom and Dad _were_ looking for ghosts there, they’d be calling this a camping trip.”

“That’s true, but that doesn’t tell me what happened.”

Danny sighed. “There was this crazy guy in the swamp. He caught me—”

“You promised you’d be careful!”

“You promised you wouldn’t freak out!”

“I did not! And this isn’t freaking out. Believe me, you’ll _know_ when I’m freaking out.”

She had a point. She hadn’t promised, and this was fairly low on the scale of ‘overprotective sister mode’. He hadn’t promised he’d be careful, exactly, but he had promised to stay invisible and hadn’t. “Fine. Anyway. Long story short, he caught me. Flying. Although he didn’t find it weird or anything, which was kinda weird itself, so maybe he thought I was just jumping from tree to tree—”

“Danny, people aren’t that stupid.”

“Plausible deniability or whatever, right? Anyway, he didn’t know I was a ghost. Well, he might know now, ‘cause I had to phase out of his ropes to get away and turned invisible as soon as I did, but the point is, he didn’t recognize me as a ghost. Which is kind of another point for arguing that whatever is up with this town, it’s not ghosts.”

Jazz’s eyes were narrowed, which was never a good sign when she was looking at him. “You’re getting better at playing dumb, Danny. Why risk your secret like that?”

“Technically, I was in ghost mode, so I wasn’t risking anything.”

“You know very well what I mean. If these people aren’t familiar with ghosts, why risk it?”

Danny hesitated. “He had this pouch thingy, and he kinda…. He reminded me of Freakshow, okay? He was talking like he wanted to possess me.”

Jazz’s expression softened. Danny still hadn’t told her everything about what had happened with Freakshow—either time—but she’d been able to fill in the blanks. “It’ll be all right, Danny.”

“Yeah,” Danny said automatically, “but just to be safe, I’m not going back there.”

“Well, you won’t need to go ghost again, either,” Jazz pointed out. “Not if there’s nothing here.”

“Well, that’d be nice, except for the fact that there has to be or we wouldn’t be here.”

Jazz gave him a small smile. “Well, clearly Mom and Dad were wrong when they were thinking it was ghosts.” They might not be sure that that was the real drawing point, but when it came to their parents, it was a safe bet.

“I know, but something must’ve made them think there was something here. And, I mean, c’mon, you cannot tell me McFist Industries strikes you as a normal company. They have robot apes.”

“You can’t—”

Whatever Jazz was about to say was lost as the screaming started. “I’ll be back,” Danny said hastily, eyes instinctively darting around the alleyway just to be sure he was safe to transform. He crouched behind a dumpster anyway. “This is probably our lead.”

“Danny, it might be a perfectly normal—”

Danny, who had transformed by this point, stopped just long enough to give her a look. “Jazz. If this place was normal, we wouldn’t be here.” But, because she was already yelling at him to be careful, he winked out of sight before following the sounds of the screams to find their source.

-|-

Randy was not enjoying this day.

It had started with robots. Usually, those were fine, but he’d gotten more than enough of them after the third one. Then, there was the fact that the history classroom hadn’t suffered enough damage that they hadn’t needed to hand in their (still incomplete) homework. And now, near as he could tell, someone had broken up with someone else and now she was having a fit. Well, she’d gotten stanked and was now rearranging locker doors, and they might have to take out a wall to take this outside. And, man, he really needed to learn the names of all the kids in this school, because this was somehow easier when he could talk to them even if they never listened.

Or maybe it was just easier to figure out what the cheese they held dear when he actually knew more about them than the fact that they attended school here.

Randy ducked as a locker door sailed over his head and hit the lockers behind him with a _scrunch_. He didn’t mind beating up stanked kids, per se, but he _did_ try to pull his punches a bit. Not a lot—as monsters, they were all surprisingly strong and resilient—but enough so that no one would have anything broken after the fight was over.

Of course, he’d already cut up this girl’s notebook, crunched her phone, and destroyed her backpack, so he wasn’t sure what else she had on her that he _could_ destroy—what remained of her clothes aside, but those were pretty much beyond repair from the transformation anyway, since in her case they’d become tatters—so he doubted it was them.

Most kids had scrambled for cover by now, nipping into classrooms with the teachers—and a few nerds into lockers, though that wasn’t always by choice—but Howard was in the hallway with his phone out, very pointedly and unconcernedly loudly enjoying what was left of his drink from lunch while filming the fight.

He was positioned so he could duck into a classroom without any problems, and this behaviour wouldn’t be questioned because he could always claim he was trying to get something for Heidi’s show for a further fifteen seconds of fame, so Randy didn’t worry about him.

He’d have Howard’s phone off him and the video deleted before Howard had a chance to upload it if he had any luck anyway. It didn’t usually take him this long to destank people, and he’d much rather if all his publicity was good publicity.

He needed to wrap this up sooner rather than later. “Ninja Cold Ball!” He was getting better at recognizing the different Ninja Balls, but he was still a bit relieved that the light blue one he’d thrown froze the hallway like he’d expected it to. Before the girl had a chance to move, he threw another one at her feet, freezing her in place. She threw another locker door at him—he kinda felt sorry for the janitors who had to clean up this mess and all the other ones he’d caused, not to mention the people who had to fix everything—and he finally caught sight of a photo in her hand.

If it could still really be called her hand when she looked more like a fish than a person at the moment.

“Ninja Scarf Snatch!” Randy shouted, whipping his scarf around to get the picture away from her before he lost sight of it again. Before the thing had a chance to flutter to the floor—and certainly before she had a chance to grab it again—he’d pulled out his sword and sliced it apart with what he would later insist was a completely necessary flourish. Because it totally was. 

Besides, he got it right, and the girl became more girl than monster again, a little bit disoriented like people always were after being stanked and rather embarrassed, and her friends appeared out of the woodwork to lead her off and presumably to produce a new set of clothes. (The transformations didn’t always end with ripped clothes—that was becoming less and less common—but it was practically school policy to keep a spare set or two in your locker. Even Randy had one, though that was more in case of extreme emergencies and appearances than because he ever thought he’d get stanked. But no one wanted to be caught out like Bucky had that one time. Being stanked in the first place was embarrassing enough.)

Randy pulled out a smoke bomb (those he kept separate; he was not about to accidentally unleash a Ninja Bee Ball on himself when he was supposed to be making his getaway) and was about to make his usual departing announcement when a bolt of green energy shot past his head—close enough that it would’ve hit him if he hadn’t just moved.

Seriously.

Another robot?

How many did McFist _have_?

“All right, let’s get this over with,” Randy muttered, shoving the smoke bomb back into his pocket and pulling out his sword again. The trouble was, the robot wasn’t immediately visible, which was weird, because McFist’s robots were _always_ immediately visible. Well, except for the Robo-Lizard, but considering they hadn’t reused that technology _before_ now….

Randy snapped his head toward the laughter when it began. It was coming from a kid—it had to be a kid, right?—who was leaning casually against the lockers at the end of the hall. How had Randy not seen him standing there before? He’d looked. He _knew_ he’d looked.

“What?” Randy asked, a bit annoyed that the boy was now doubled over with laughter.

“You’re really going to try to fight me with a sword?” the boy burst out, looking up at Randy. “What else does it do, shoot lasers? Teleport me to a dimension to live out my worst fear?”

“Huh?” Randy wasn’t entirely following this. He had no idea where the guy was getting the whole ‘teleporting’ thing from, but that aside, why the heck did he expect Randy to fight him? Sure, he didn’t recognize the kid, but that wasn’t saying much. And he was in some really weird getup, but that also wasn’t—

One of the green rays hit his sword, the force of the blast nearly pulling the weapon from Randy’s grip and heating it up enough that it sent off waves of warmth.

And the ray had come from the kid’s _hand_.

Or, perhaps more accurately, from his glove. 

He worked for McFist, and Viceroy had developed laser-shooting gloves.

Just _great_. How the heck had McFist managed to brainwash a kid into thinking he was the bad guy?

And how was Randy supposed to fight a kid when he didn’t really want to, well, hurt him? It wasn’t like he was stanked and Randy just needed to slice something up. What he probably needed to destroy, if anything, was the kid’s suit—something easier said than done when he was _wearing it_.

The kid raised an eyebrow. All signs of his previous amusement had died when he’d started shooting, but this looked more like scepticism than seriousness, as if he couldn’t believe how things were going. “Not that I’m going to argue with an easy target or anything, but even if I haven’t fought you before, I’ve fought a ninja before. Although, if you want to make this easy for me….” The kid reached down to his belt, fumbled for a moment, and frowned. “Oh, crud,” he muttered, so softly Randy barely heard him. “I forgot my thermos.”

Randy didn’t particularly want to stick around to find out what the heck the thermos did, since he was pretty sure from the kid’s tone that it wasn’t just for holding soup.

And he wasn’t exactly thrilled to find out that Viceroy had put the kid through various Ninja fight simulations.

He hadn’t run away from a fight in a long time, but he really needed to shloomp on this. The kid was brainwashed or something, and Randy didn’t want to accidentally kill him. Kids were amazingly resilient when stanked, but Randy really didn’t want to count on Viceroy’s inventive genius when it came to making the kid’s suit. His robots inevitably came apart easily enough.

With one hand, Randy pulled out a smoke bomb and, with a much softer cry than normal, threw it down to hide his escape. Just before the red clouds swirled in front of his vision, he could have sworn he saw the boy _fly_ towards him.

If this kid was playing at being another hero to save everyone from robots and monsters, only to turn on them like McFist once had as Lucius O’ThunderPunch…. Well, Randy wasn’t going to let him. Not this time. 

But he’d still consult the Nomicon first, just to be on the safe side. 

Laser-shooting gloves and jetpack boots or whatever the flying thing was—he knew he’d seen Viceroy use some levitating thing himself, and McFist had definitely had blasters—didn’t mean the kid couldn’t be hurt. And just because he was working for McFist didn’t mean Randy wouldn’t be able to make him see sense; he couldn’t be getting much out of this. Besides, Randy would rather not attack the kid in front of the entire school if he _was_ playing at being the good guy. It would be bad for his rep. 

And he wouldn’t mind knowing what _else_ Viceroy had put up the kid’s sleeves before he got too deep into this.


	3. Chapter 3

Principal Slimovitz straightened his glasses, glancing down at the papers in front of him before looking back up at the smiling woman poised across from his desk. “Your references appear to be exemplary, Dr. Spectra.”

Penelope Spectra kept her bright smile. “I only want to do what’s best for the children, Principal.”

Principal Slimovitz hesitated. “You said you arrived in town recently.” Very recently, from how she’d been talking—perhaps too recently to have caught this morning’s series of attacks on the school, in which his car had been the only casualty. That was unlikely, however; the string of attacking robots had been rather hard to miss. “You are aware of the…the circumstances in which we frequently find ourselves here at Norrisville High?” He didn’t want to scare her off, but the truth would come out sooner rather than later anyway. He was hoping that the fact that _she_ had come to _him_ was a good sign.

“I am.” The smile didn’t waver. “In fact, that is precisely why I feel that my services are exactly what is needed here.” 

“You’re certain?” He didn’t want to sound so _uncertain_ , but…. It was incredibly difficult to acquire new staff. Most of those who were here now had either attended this school as a child and come back to teach or—as he suspected was the case of Dr. Spectra—were drawn to the thrill of it.

He didn’t quite understand those people, although he was certainly aware of that trait when it came to people like Coach Green. 

Yet, Dr. Spectra didn’t _strike_ him as a thrill-seeker.

To be perfectly honest, she struck him as someone who was naïve and entirely unaware of just what she was signing up for, like he had been. 

There were some days he was surprised he was still here.

But he had a reason to stick around; his family had only moved away from Norrisville a generation ago, and he’d come back to feel a bit closer to his roots. (And, well, once he’d first been to Whoopee World sixteen years ago, he’d known there was no other town for him to live in.) Of course, now he knew the full story of why they’d moved away in the first place, but it made him feel better, sometimes, knowing that all of this had been going on _before_ he’d been hired on here.

“Principal Slimovitz, I thought I had made myself clear. I am not the type to back away from a challenge.” She paused. “However, I will acknowledge that when I feel I have done all that I can, it is necessary to move on. I do not plan to stay indefinitely; there are plenty of troubled children out there. But I am not out there now; I am right here, and if I speak to the students on an individual basis I can help get to the root of their troubles and bolster some school spirit that will transform them into a united force in these uncertain times.”

Perhaps she didn’t possess the same level of craziness that meant the staff here all got along so well, but she certainly made up for it in determination.

And since she would be dealing with the children individually, it was considerably less likely that they’d tear her apart than if she were trying to take on a full classroom at once.

The somewhat manic glint of eagerness in her eye made him think she’d fit in quite well, all things considered.

“Well, then.” He fumbled for a pen before realizing he didn’t need one right now and instead held out his hand. “Welcome aboard, Dr. Spectra.” He already had a copy of her ID and the rest of her papers; she’d been thoughtful enough to supply them when she’d first come in.

She shook his hand firmly. “Please, just call me Penelope.” Her smile faltered finally, and she began slowly, “I have a…friend. Do stop me if I’m overstepping my bounds, but he has been my assistant in the past and we are dear friends. I realize it’s too much for me to ask to retain him as my assistant for this position, but he is quite adept at fitting in wherever he’s needed and has an astounding ability to adapt to any situation and take on whatever is necessary. Perhaps you’ve need of another custodian?”

They had need of five, and all the better if they were a crack job at repairs, given the state of the school. He really was surprised she hadn’t mentioned something about the ongoing repairs upon her arrival. He normally wouldn’t be so quick to do her a favour—he did hardly know her—but he was desperate. In all likelihood, she could read that on his face and would know his answer before he even gave it. “When can he start?”

Penelope’s bright smile returned. “I’ll have Bertrand drop by before the end of the day. He’ll be thrilled. Thank you, Principal.”

“Oh, no, thank you, Dr. Spectra. Penelope. I look forward to working with you.” He truly did. He might even get some decent conversation in the staff room now. It was still somewhat unnerving having to speak to both Marlene Driscoll _and_ her dead husband.

-|-

Randy couldn’t afford to tell Howard what he was up to first; if he did, he ran the risk of being lumped in with all the other kids in the classroom and not being able to get away, and there were only so many times he could ‘fall asleep’ in class. Sure, he wasn’t consulting the Nomicon over every little thing anymore, but even the more oblivious teachers had taken to watching him a bit more closely.

Not that any of them had figured it out. No one was going to figure it out. Heck, even when he’d thought Howard had, he’d been barking up a completely different tree. But he didn’t need a lecture from his mom about not staying up all night playing video games. Or pretending to work on a science project. Or history project. Or whatever else she thought he was doing, regardless of what he actually was doing, which some of the time _was_ all of those things.

But the first phone call about him falling asleep in class hadn’t exactly gone over well, so Randy instead made a beeline for the washroom and locked his stall—the one he knew stayed locked despite repeated rattling—and pulled out the NinjaNomicon.

“Okay,” he said. “I need to know what I’m dealing with. This kid is, well, just a kid, and….” He shrugged and opened the book. “I don’t wanna huroo—”

The dizzying kaleidoscope flashed past and Randy landed in the NinjaNomicon with an audible _thump_ —which for all he knew was some sort of emphasis on whatever pain he should be feeling considering he would’ve just fainted over the book. Shloomping probably wasn’t supposed to be dangerous, but Randy had fallen off the risers and similar places more than once and gotten the bruises to prove it, although they always seemed to appear where they were easy to hide and never lasted long. Maybe the Ninja suit had some kind of additional healing powers, which would really explain why he wasn’t a wreck and in so much pain he couldn’t move the minute he went back to being just Randy.

He should probably ask sometime, if only so he could tell Howard. It could make for a weekend of interesting experiments.

Then again, maybe he shouldn’t tell Howard. Howard would find it way too much fun to have an excuse to punch him repeatedly, under the pretence of ‘testing his theory’. Especially since the goose-egg he’d gotten to sneak into Bash’s party had gone down long before Howard’s had, and Randy was still pretty sure he hadn’t hit harder.

Eh, he’d make up his mind later. If Howard kept insisting he had the best score for Grave Puncher 10—both at the Game Hole _and_ on the newly-released home version—because Randy had to keep going to Ninja out in the middle of their games, he was not sharing his observations until later. Way later. Maybe not even until after Christmas.

“Okay, Nomicon,” Randy said as he climbed to his feet. “What’ve you got for me?”

The scene sketched itself out quickly. Some former Ninja—or at least someone representing the Ninja—was looking down at the still water of a lake. Randy was close enough to all of this that he didn’t need to do much more than crane his neck a little bit to see exactly what the Ninja saw: his reflection. After a beat, it changed and became someone else. Probably whoever the Ninja was when he wasn’t being the Ninja. Randy looked up as words started appearing before him, arrows twisting to point at both the Ninja and his reflection.

“ **THE REFLECTION BECOMES WHAT IT IS EXPECTED TO BE** ,” Randy read. “What the juice? How is _that_ supposed to help me? You’ve gotta have something more than that, Nomicon!”

It produced a very unhelpful **LOOK CLEARLY** , circled for effect. He knew it wasn’t telling him he needed glasses—the Nomicon never was very clear, but the Ninja suddenly needing glasses would’ve been a dead giveaway, and Randy wasn’t so sure contacts were a good idea considering some of the things he ran into—but it did kind of sound like it was telling him to meditate or something. Clear his mind and all that.

Although that probably would’ve been _think clearly_ or something. 

“C’mon,” Randy whined. “I don’t know what I’m dealing with here! You could at least give me a hint! McFist has never tried bringing in other kids before, and this doesn’t sound like Viceroy’s idea.” He was getting much better at identifying robots, and he was pretty sure this kid wasn’t a robot. The speech pattern was too varied, he wasn’t predictable, he wasn’t immediately trying to be everyone’s friend—nothing that was a dead giveaway.

 **LOOK CLEARLY** pulsed, as if he hadn’t noticed it the first time.

“Something _more_ than that?” It might as well be telling him to pay attention, which he totally already did. Mostly. He had to, being the Ninja, or he’d walk right into a trap someone had cooked up for him.

So maybe that’s what this was. A trap.

“Are you warning me that someone set a trap for me?” Randy asked quickly, trying to get his words out before the scene before him rippled into nothingness. “McFist?” But this didn’t _sound_ like McFist, at least not if it was a trap. McFist’s approaches were way more obvious. “The Sorcerer?” Still sorta the same thing as McFist, although more likely if he was trying to act directly. If the kid had found one of the Sorcerer’s orbs or even if it was— “The Sorcer _ess_?” Her methods tended to involve more trickery—he never figured things out this quickly—but it did seem to be more likely one of those two instead of McFist.

Except for the whole ‘not the first time he’d fought a ninja’ thing, which just reeked of McFist and Viceroy collecting and compiling all their video footage—he _knew_ they had video footage—and creating some sort of Ninja-themed Grave Puncher game. The 3D simulator type, like the kinds stored on Otto.

That would be awesome, actually. It was a shame he couldn’t suggest it without it ultimately working against him. It would be way too easy to cloak that like they had the last time McFist had tried to take out the Ninja through a video game.

“You can’t just give me one more hint?” Randy asked, but he knew it was too late now, the world around him spinning again to the point that he couldn’t make anything out and—

Randy took a huge breath, sat up, and wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth as the Nomicon snapped shut. “I’m asking you again later,” he warned. He wasn’t sure it would do him any good, but it never hurt to try. 

It really shouldn’t be the Sorceress behind all of this, but if the Sorcerer was managing to control anyone with his power balls and keeping them in a puppet-like but clearly non-stanked state—at least for now—then Randy needed to find the kid sooner rather than later.

Although if it was either of them and _not_ McFist and Viceroy, it didn’t explain how the kid could shoot lasers with his gloves. Stanked monsters didn’t do that. Robots—or at least mechanically-built stuff, as in the case of the gloves—did. 

This should really make a lot more sense than it did.

“You coulda at least told me how to fight him,” Randy muttered, glaring at the book. “If I was supposed to figure everything out by myself, you wouldn’t be here.”

The Nomicon didn’t even glow red in protest.

“I still don’t even know what I’m supposed to do when he shows up again! Because you know he’s going to show up again. And next time he’s going to have that thermos… thing. And that probably, I dunno, shoots something, too, or is something that will help McFist figure out who I am, and—” Randy broke off and tried to pry the Nomicon open, but its pages might as well have been glued shut. “C’mon! I still need help here! Making me figure it out by myself isn’t helping!”

Grumbling, Randy tossed the Nomicon back in his bag and headed to class. Maybe Howard would have some ideas. If not, he’d at least prove to be a distraction. Because this really wasn’t what Randy needed right now. He’d already dealt with a stanked kid and he’d pretty well lost count of how many robots had come his way today. He did _not_ need to now have to deal with some vulnerable kid who thought _he_ was the enemy.

His goal was to make it through until the end of the school day before the kid showed up again.

He wondered if he’d be so lucky.

Probably not.

Which meant he really should spend all the time he could figuring out how he was going to fight a kid he didn’t want to hurt but who obviously had no qualms about hurting him. 

“You’re slipping, Cunningham,” Howard murmured as Randy slid into his desk beside him.

“Totally not my fault,” Randy returned. “Let me see your phone.”

“So you can delete my video? Are you kidding? I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“So I can see when that kid showed up,” Randy said, shaking his outstretched hand for emphasis. “Quick, before class starts. I need to figure out how to fight him.” Everyone else was talking, so he was confident no one was paying attention their conversation. No one ever did.

“Ask the Nomicon.”

“The Nomicon wasn’t helping.”

Howard rolled his eyes but handed his phone over with a pointed, “You _owe_ me, Cunningham.”

Randy snatched it before Howard could change his mind and started skipping through the video. The place where the kid had turned up was just in the corner of the video, so Randy wasn’t going to have a very good idea of when he turned up until—

Randy blinked, paused the video, and went back, but watching it again just seemed to tell him the same story: the first blast of green—presumably the one that had only narrowly missed him—had come out of nowhere. Literally, nowhere. It was just suddenly a bright streak from the lockers near where the kid would show up, and—

The video went crooked (Howard must’ve jumped) and then was adjusted to focus on both Randy and the kid who’d attacked him. The boy was there now, plain as day. Randy paused the video again and zoomed in. He hadn’t gotten a great look at the kid before, but on closer inspection, the boy couldn’t be much older than he was, if he was older at all. He was slight and definitely hadn’t hit a major growth spurt. Bright green eyes, pretty close to the shade of the laser he kept shooting, and white hair—white beyond white-blond—that was distinctive enough that Randy really shouldn’t have any trouble picking the kid out in a crowd. Trust McFist to forget to have the kid dye it something less conspicuous, but it worked in his favour. He definitely wasn’t going to complain.

The next bit didn’t show anything Randy hadn’t seen before—laughing, blasting—and the red smoke from his smoke bomb obscured a lot of the rest of the video, but— Randy narrowed his eyes and zoomed in again, this time towards the kid’s feet.

He was floating.

Not standing, like Randy had assumed. Floating. Hovering. Levitating. Whatever. And then, yes, definitely, right at the end, flying. And Randy still couldn’t see anything built into his suit—because it was a weird-looking jumpsuit thing, so something had to be built into it—that would _facilitate_ all of that. Viceroy was definitely getting better.

Because it had to be Viceroy and McFist. If it was the Sorcerer or even the Sorceress, the kid would blend in better. He’d maybe be introduced as a new kid in school or something and then a new villain would suspiciously turn up to coincide with his arrival. But when the trap was more obvious, when it _was_ just a kid who was already set to fight the Ninja or perhaps take his place as the town’s hero, well…. That had McFist written all over it. And the super-powered suit had _Viceroy_ written all over it. It had to be them.

“Where’d the kid go?” Randy asked once the video had ended.

“Where’d the who what?”

“The kid who was attacking me,” Randy hissed. “Where’d he go? You stopped taping before he left.”

Howard shrugged and took his phone back. “No idea. He started flying towards you and I decided to take care of number one.”

Randy rolled his eyes. “Really?”

“Priorities.”

“And you didn’t see him again?”

“Hey, watching the bad guys ain’t my job.” Howard stretched and settled back into his seat. “But I do have your back when, you know, my own isn’t in danger, and from what I heard, he vanished when you did.”

Randy frowned. “He’s that sneaky?”

“As good as the Ninja.”

Even someone who _wasn’t_ Howard’s best friend would have been able to recognize the taunt in his voice. “I will hit you.”

“Nah, you won’t. You gotta protect the innocent and defend the defenceless and all that, remember?”

“The Ninja provoked is not responsible for his actions,” Randy recited solemnly.

“You totally just made that up.”

“Did not.”

“Did, too.”

“Not.”

“Too.”

“N—”

“Hey, guys?” Randy jumped as Debbie Kang leaned up from behind them. “Mind playing make-believe on your own time?”

Howard affected a face that was slightly more horrified than he surely felt. “We were not playing—”

“Then you do really know something about the Ninja?”

Randy froze. She couldn’t have been listening. He was so dead if she had been listening. 

She was a _reporter_. She’d tell the whole school if she found out he was the Ninja. And then McFist would have no problem finding out who he was and getting him in something he couldn’t get out of and then the Sorcerer would get free and—

“Please,” Howard said. “We were _rehearsing_.”

Debbie arched an eyebrow. “For what? You aren’t in drama class.”

“For _English_.”

“I’m _in_ your English class.”

“For _extra credit_.”

Debbie huffed but didn’t argue. She knew they didn’t have good grades in Spanish; it probably wasn’t hard for her to figure out that they didn’t have the best grades in English, either—even if English was one of his better subjects at the moment.

“So you’re, what, writing a play?”

“And waste our genius on something no one’s ever going to see?” Debbie snorted, but Howard ignored her and continued, “It’s a skit. I’m the bad guy slash innocent bystander. Randy won at rock paper scissors so he’s the Ninja.”

“Randy’s the Ninja,” Debbie repeated.

“Because Howard always picks rock,” Randy managed.

Debbie rolled her eyes. “At least you’re composing something more civilized than a script with as many fart jokes and potty references and bad puns as you could fit into five minutes.”

Howard shot Randy a considering look. “Actually, that might be easier than this. Whaddaya think, Cunningham? Should we switch?”

Debbie made a disgusted sound. “You guys are idiots.”

“Don’t worry, we won’t ever change.”

With a final mutter of, “Boys,” Debbie sat back in her seat and resumed ignoring them.

Randy relaxed, mouthed _good save_ at Howard, and turned his attention to Señora Jorge. He’d figure out what to do about the brainwashed kid _after_ Spanish class—and keep an eye on the student body from now on, too. The boy had to be somewhere, after all. It wasn’t like he was a ghost.

-|-

“I can’t believe I forgot my thermos,” Danny muttered. But usually he _had_ one, or at least had one in his locker or his backpack, or Sam or Tucker had one and…. 

He clearly wasn’t necessarily more on his game when he got some sleep. It wasn’t like he was in Amity Park. It wasn’t like he had a few emergency stashes of thermoses and miscellaneous FentonWorks weapons around town in case he—or rather Sam and Tucker and possibly Jazz—needed it. He was in a completely different town.

His phone started ringing again.

“Really, Jazz?” Danny sighed but dug it out and answered it, slowing so that there wouldn’t be much sound of wind on the line. But at least if he talked to Jazz, she could snag a thermos and get it ready for him. He didn’t like leaving ghosts unchecked, but this one hadn’t been actively destroying anything anymore—though clearly he had ice powers if the hallway was anything to go by—and it was much easier to beat up a ghost and suck it into the thermos once than to fight it ten times before he had the chance to get rid of it.

But at least a ghost showing up in the first place meant that this was probably why his parents were here, off investigating as if they didn’t gather enough intel on ghosts in Amity Park. “You know I’m coming right back, right?” Danny asked, not even bothering to say hello.

_“How could you guys leave without me?”_

Danny blinked. “Tucker?” He hadn’t expected to hear from Sam and Tucker yet. Well, maybe a text or two or ten over lunch, but he definitely hadn’t expected a call before school was even out.

 _“Geez, Danny, I keep trying you at every break, and you never answer your phone.”_ The annoyance in Tucker’s voice was clear, but it was more play-annoyed than really-annoyed. _“Seriously, dude. This isn’t cool. How could you guys go to Norrisville and leave me behind?”_

“Um…. Because I didn’t pay attention at dinner last night and didn’t realize we were going anywhere until this morning?”

 _“But your parents would’ve let me come! Heck,_ my _parents would’ve let me go with you! It’s_ Norrisville _!”_

“Yeah,” Danny agreed slowly, “but what does that matter?”

 _“McFist Industries, Danny! They’re, like, big enough to rival VladCo. And they got that way_ without _their CEO having ghost powers.”_

As far as they knew, but Danny’s ghost sense hadn’t gone off while there, so Tucker’s statement was probably true. “And?”

 _“And it’s McFist Industries! They own practically everything Vlad doesn’t! They even own that company that made the Tuckbot. Seriously. How could you guys visit Norrisville and_ not take me with you _? They offer tours! I could have gone on a tour! I could have met McFist himself!”_

“He’s not anywhere near as smart as Vlad,” Danny said before he had a chance to regret it.

 _“You_ met _him? At least tell me you got me an autograph.”_

“Uh….”

_“Dude, you’re my best friend. How could you not have gotten me an autograph?”_

“I’ll get you an autograph,” Danny promised. “And Viceroy’s, too. He’s the head scientist.”

_“I know! Willem Viceroy III, valedictorian for his year at Mad Scientist University—”_

“How the heck do you even know that?” Danny frowned. “No, wait, they actually have a mad scientist university? You’re making that up, right?”

_“I’ve been doing my research. I want to apply for an internship there this summer if my folks will let me. At McFist Industries, not MSU.”_

“You’re kidding. You have to be kidding. _Mad Scientist University_? Did Vlad get a masters degree there or something?” Although if Viceroy had gone there, then he definitely wasn’t good news. Maybe he was working on a ghost portal, had managed to bring this ninja ghost through. Maybe that’s why McFist Industries was really interested in his parents’ inventions. It wouldn’t surprise Danny to find out that they’d been lying through their teeth when it came to having met ghosts before.

 _“It’s not as crazy as it sounds.”_ Tucker paused. _“Okay, so maybe MSU is, but the science and technology is pretty much cutting edge stuff. If it was a bit more reputable,_ I _might try to go there.”_

“Tuck, you’ll have to mess up big time not to get into MIT.”

 _“Yeah.”_ It was Tucker’s usual modest response when this came up; he always tried to shrug off his skills when it came up in their conversations. _“But I kinda wanted to ask you—think your parents will mind if I borrow the Spectre Speeder? Or the Ops Centre so I can use the Fenton Jet? That’s got Auto-Jack, so they don’t need to worry that I’ll crash it or anything….”_

“What?”

_“I’m going to meet you there! Tomorrow, probably, ‘cause I won’t make it there tonight. So what do you think your parents will mind me taking less? I mean, they don’t know that we know how to drive the Spectre Speeder, but Sam won’t call in a favour and let me use her family jet and I don’t have the cash to get there otherwise.”_

Danny knew better than to ask if Tucker’s parents were okay with this. They were way more lenient than Sam’s. Tucker obviously thought this was a good opportunity for him to make some connections, so chances were good they agreed with him and would let him come. 

But whatever Tucker had told them, chances were also good he’d left out the fact that they were already _in_ Norrisville and that he wasn’t just going to be travelling with them to get there.

“What about Sam?”

_“She can’t come. She promised she’d go to the next dinner party her parents wanted to drag her to with only minimal protest, and it’s this weekend. Friday, I think. Maybe Saturday. She’ll be gone for most of both, anyway, and might not even get back to Amity Park before we do. She doesn’t know where it is—they’re not hosting it—but she won’t break a promise to her grandma. Especially not after they’ve already got tickets to go to that concert together.”_

Which explained why Tucker was phoning to ask what he should take and why they weren’t both in the Spectre Speeder headed here already. Danny’s parents—well, his mom; his dad was a pushover anyway, if they just expressed interest in ghost hunting—were more likely to go easy on them when both of them were involved. Or maybe Maddie just had a soft spot for Sam, since neither of them was particularly fond of Sam’s parents, and she wanted to set a good example in her own way.

Of course, his parents’ idea of a good example differed greatly from Sam’s parents’, so that was part of the problem.

“Take the Spectre Speeder,” Danny said. Tucker had more experience with it, and it would be easier to explain away his knowledge of it when his parents inevitably found out how Tucker got here. “And bring another thermos. There are ghosts here, too.”

_“Really? Even without a stable portal?”_

“You just told me there’s a certified mad scientist here. At this point, nothing’s going to surprise me. I’ll catch you later, Tuck. Should I warn my parents?”

_“Maybe not. Then you can claim ignorance.”_

“Gotcha. Thanks.”

_“You still shoulda phoned me before you left, though.”_

“Yeah, well. Tell Sam I said hi.”

_“Will do.”_

Danny hung up and went to find Jazz, who was pacing the alley. “Don’t go off like that again!” she snapped when he appeared in front of her. “You have no idea what you’re getting into here. This isn’t Amity Park, and it’s not like the Box Ghost just decided to come raid a warehouse.”

“I know, so can you save the lecture? Please?”

Jazz sighed. “Don’t fly off again.”

Danny wasn’t going to promise her he wouldn’t. “The screaming came from the school,” he said instead, “and my ghost sense went off when I got there. Most of the kids were hiding in classrooms, but the ghost was making a mess of the hallway.” Danny shrugged. “He’s got ice powers and a sword and something against locker doors, but despite being a ninja he’s probably not any more powerful than Poindexter is.”

“A ninja?” Jazz asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Black suit and everything.” He’d actually looked a little bit like Danny had the one time he’d dressed as a ninja while chasing after Vlad and the Infi-Map—minus the hat and plus the scarf. “Looked more like me—more human, I mean—than the last ghost ninja I fought, but considering that was Bertrand that’s not saying much. I think he might be like Amorpho, a shifter looking for attention, or some kid who died thinking ninjas were really, really cool.”

Jazz made a face. “Real ninjas never would’ve dressed up in black, except maybe at night. They would’ve wanted to blend in.”

“Hence the ‘looking for attention’ bit, ‘cause he definitely didn’t blend in.” Danny hesitated, but there wasn’t any way to get around telling Jazz he’d forgotten to bring a thermos. “I didn’t really fight him this time.”

“You didn’t bring a thermos with you because you flew off before you could do anything else.”

“I didn’t bring a thermos with me because I didn’t expect ghosts,” Danny corrected. “Remember when I said my ghost sense didn’t go off until I got to the school? And it didn’t go off when I first went by there, so the ninja guy just turned up recently.”

Jazz frowned. “Natural portals, do you think?”

“Not sure. Tuck says Viceroy’s a mad scientist, so anything’s fair game.” Seeing the question in Jazz’s expression, Danny added, “He phoned; he’s going to grab the Spectre Speeder and meet us here. Apparently he’s a big fan of McFist Industries.”

“They do have a rather large and innovative technology division,” Jazz allowed, sounding like this didn’t entirely surprise her. She was probably remembering the robot apes. “What are you going to tell Mom and Dad?”

“That I had no idea he was coming,” Danny said as he changed back. “Come on, let’s see what we can find out about Viceroy. We need to know whether he’s working alone or if McFist Industries is a front for something bigger.” If his parents suspected these guys were trying to build their own portal or something, they probably wouldn’t see any harm in doing a little reconnaissance—especially if they wanted to assure themselves Viceroy wasn’t going to accidentally blow up both worlds over the course of his research.

To Danny’s surprise, Jazz didn’t follow him immediately. “This is why Vlad never made a bid to take over their company, isn’t it? Because it _is_ a front for something bigger. Something big enough to give Vlad pause.”

Danny stopped, Jazz’s words hitting him like a punch to the gut. She made a good point, and it wasn’t a pleasant one. As far as he knew, Vlad was only really scared of losing Maddie—and possibly him. He’d suck up to ghosts like Pariah Dark to avoid getting obliterated, but he didn’t fear them enough not to try to use them or something in their possession. It was rather odd that he’d let someone even Danny thought was kind of idiotic make so much money and _not_ try to take over their company at any point.

“We need to be careful, Danny,” Jazz said as she caught up to him. “We can’t let them know we suspect them of anything—except maybe wanting to rip off our parents.”

“Yeah,” Danny said dryly, “and by the end of this, they’ll just love us.”

“Just no more ghost stunts until we find out where all the cameras are. The last thing we need is for these guys to find out your secret.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Are you sure about this place?” Bertrand asked, though he didn’t let all of his unease bleed into his voice. He blended in well enough—chances were good he looked like a younger version of the school’s current principal, which was distasteful for him but certainly innocuous enough not to be questioned—and he tended not to question Spectra’s judgement, but there was something about this place….

Spectra snapped her compact shut before turning to face him. They were in the room that was being repurposed for her office, something that was probably once an old classroom before it had required extensive—and, from the looks of them, recent—repairs. They were safe enough here and certainly didn’t have to pretend with each other.

Which was undoubtedly why Spectra didn’t hide her glower.

“If I thought you’d be difficult, I would have left you behind again.” She’d already been here once without him; she’d sat in on some basketball practice earlier in the week while scouting out the potential of taking up residence in this school for a spell. He’d been stuck drawing up the paperwork she’d need to get in if she found it suitable.

“It’s dangerous for us to be so far from a portal,” Bertrand hedged. “You know as well as I do that natural portals aren’t very common here.”

“Which is why we have this place to ourselves. Can’t you smell it? All that mouth-watering misery and delicious depression? It’s a school full of heartbreak and teenage turmoil, and we can have a _feast_.”

“But don’t you—?”

“You know very well I’ve done my research, Bertrand,” Spectra said sharply. “This place has an unusually high level of anguish and despair, and we’d be fools not to capitalize on it. You know I need a good store to repress Jack Fenton’s genetics if I want to take that other form without becoming hideously disgusting. If I can get that without having to worry about meddlesome little freaks, all the better.”

Bertrand shifted on his feet. “But you can feel that, right? Like I can?”

Spectra’s lips thinned. “Yes,” she admitted at length. “It is, no doubt, the reason for this little hotspot. I’ll look into it. I’m sure it can be turned to our advantage.”

Bertrand wasn’t so sure, but he wasn’t going to argue with Spectra. He still remembered the last time he’d gotten on the wrong side of her when Kitty and Ember were upset, and he’d rather not give Spectra any more ideas about leaving him behind. They were better as a team. Her psychologist ploy wasn’t nearly as effective when he wasn’t there to stir up mischief.

“I’ll keep an eye out anyway,” Bertrand said. This wasn’t Phantom’s town, but he knew that feeling he had wasn’t nothing, and he half expected this town to have a hero of its own to combat…whatever it was. Spectra’s sessions were going to start in the morning, so if any kid was up to heroics, she’d find out soon enough, but it was good to know where they stood. “Nobody’s going to question me even if they notice.” With his new ‘job’, he wouldn’t even need to waste his strength on invisibility or additional shifting. It was the reason Spectra had gotten it for him.

This far from a sure way into the Ghost Zone, it didn’t hurt to be a little cautious.

At least until they figured out what else was going on.

Spectra shifted into her shadow form. “You do that. I’ll do a little bit of my own reconnaissance.”

-|-

“ _Three ghosts detected_ ,” the Fenton Finder announced. “ _Locating…. Locating…. Nearest target located. Please proceed five hundred yards ahead._ ”

Three ghosts. Maddie had expected more, to be honest. She and Jack—well, she had been at it for longer—had pored over the reports coming out of Norrisville. It was no wonder most of the country seemed to discard them; on the surface, they appeared ridiculous.

But so many identical eyewitness accounts, spread over so many years, made Maddie wonder why the Guys in White hadn’t come to investigate for themselves. Sure, these people were calling them monsters instead of ghosts, but the similarities were there. It reminded her of the time the children of Casper High had been infected with a ghost disease. The official release had been sketchy on the details, but Maddie knew enough to be able to read between the lines. It had resulted in strange behaviour, ghost-like powers. 

She and Jack had laughed it off at first—the idea of a human with ghost powers was utterly ridiculous—but the more she’d thought on it, the more she was inclined to trust the less reputable sources she’d heard. Not to mention her own children, when they spoke of it and she managed to overhear it.

If these monsters were ghosts—or, more specifically, a ghostly disease causing mutations—then all those who attended Norrisville High or were exposed to the source within it for any length of time were at risk of developing the symptoms. She suspected some sort of object to be behind it all, either planted by a ghost or unwittingly acquired, but they’d have to do their own investigating to confirm that. She knew the town had a long history, longer than that of Amity Park; ghosts were bound to be a natural consequence of that anyway. But the reports had made it clear that whatever ecto-energy was around wasn’t weak enough to be benign and shouldn’t be treated as such.

This was the perfect chance for Danny and Jazz to test out their skills. Maddie knew they had them; Jack still raved about his father-daughter bonding weekend with Jazz, and Danny had organized his peers into a rescue force to save them from the ghost pirates. (Grounding Danny that time had always been more about the wild party he’d obviously thrown at their house in their absence than the use of the Ops Centre.) However, Jazz rarely went out into the field and Danny tried to avoid all their weaponry on principle. There might be a brief flare of interest from the kids when they developed a new weapon, but both offered up any excuse that crossed their minds to get out of going ghost hunting with their parents.

Still, they were Fentons. As Jack said, ghost hunting was in their blood. And it was too dangerous for them not to be on their toes. As Fentons, they were also prime targets for vengeful ghost attacks. Maddie wanted the peace of mind that her children could defend themselves if it came to it.

Here, they would have a wide array of weapons available to them, but they were in unfamiliar territory and would be forced to think on their feet. Given their previous exposure to ecto-diseases, it was quite probable they’d built up some resistance to this disease as well, although complete immunity was highly unlikely. But Maddie and Jack were going to keep an eye on them, and while they weren’t by any means planning on leaving them to their own devices entirely, she didn’t intend to interfere unless Danny or Jazz needed her to. She wanted to give them a chance.

It would mean restraining Jack and reminding him that this was a perfectly necessary field test and he couldn’t barge in on his own and destroy Danny’s and Jazz’s opportunity to shine, but it was something she was prepared to do.

Besides, they _were_ interested in the possibility of large-scale manufacturing, and as much as Jack would have loved to go to Vlad, Maddie knew how uncomfortable he made Danny. She wasn’t sure what was between them—she was certain it was nothing unspeakable or Jazz would have said something, because she was equally certain Jazz knew precisely what it was—but she didn’t want to make things worse.

And some of Vlad’s implications weren’t as veiled as they could be, even if they passed by Jack, and she didn’t appreciate them.

“Three ghosts,” Viceroy repeated, leaning in closer to get a better look at the screen. “And this is…accurate?” It sounded like he didn’t believe it was.

Maddie was used to scepticism. “Of course,” she said, reaching into her pocket to hand Jack a piece of fudge as a reward for his patience. “Just because you haven’t personally encountered ghosts—to your knowledge, at least—it certainly doesn’t mean they don’t exist or that there aren’t any haunting this town. Surely Norrisville has at least one ghost story attached to its history?”

“More than one,” Viceroy muttered, eyeing a scowling McFist.

It was an agreement, however begrudging. Maddie smiled. “It’s quite likely that more than one of those stories is true. While I cannot determine the strength of the ghosts using the Fenton Finder alone, this invention does confirm their presence.”

McFist narrowed his eyes. “So this invention can find ghosts?”

“Of course!” Jack burst out as he swallowed the last of the fudge. “It’s our handheld ghost detector! I built another version to put into the Fenton Family Ghost Assault Vehicle—can I show them, Maddie?”

Maddie hesitated. Jack’s enthusiasm was all well and good, but they needed to sell the idea of their inventions, not push it. She tilted her head in consideration; the Fenton Finder had gotten the most positive response out of Hannibal McFist yet. “Perhaps, if you’re interested—?”

McFist snatched the Fenton Finder out of her hands. “How does it work?” he asked, fiddling with the knobs. “Can it find other stuff?”

“It detects ecto-signatures,” Maddie explained. “We’ve designed it to filter out background levels and pinpoint true power sources—ghosts strong enough to manifest, even if their form is only globular.” 

“So if you gave it something else to detect,” McFist asked, “could it find it?”

“Those modifications could be made, I’m sure,” Maddie agreed, “if a suitable target was provided. The screening method is specific, but our vehicular version does contain some differences from this version that may make modification more intuitive. Those modifications would be easy to reincorporate into this version, of course; we simply built this version first and it has proven effective for our purposes.” She didn’t mention the fact that it still proclaimed Danny a ghost, but she was certain she had nearly pinpointed the cause of that particular glitch.

“Show me,” McFist said, and he barely had time to throw the Fenton Finder to Viceroy with a shouted, “ _Study that_!” before Jack had dragged him away.

“It’s not as rudimentary as it appears,” Maddie promised as Viceroy carefully adjusted the dials.

“It doesn’t appear to be rudimentary at all,” Viceroy said. “My apologies, Mrs. Fenton. I did not mean to come off as overly….” He trailed off, unable to find the right word.

“Your apology is unnecessary but accepted, Mr. Viceroy. We’ve received worse responses,” Maddie said. “Please excuse my children’s behaviour; they have seen our ideas thrown back in our faces one too many times, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, kids will be kids,” Viceroy said, waving it off. He was still intent on the machine. A good sign.

“Might I ask if you’ve any idea what Mr. McFist intends to search for?”

“Oh, he’s always looking for a good many things.” Viceroy chuckled. “But sometimes I think he wishes he could find one person in a crowd, the proverbial needle in the haystack.”

Maddie frowned. “That would be more difficult. Even something relatively simple like pheromone detection could be masked. I don’t suppose something like voice recognition would work? If you start with a clean sample, you should be able to filter out irrelevant chatter to hone in on your target in a crowd.” She paused, remembering the dinner to which they had been invited later that evening. “His stepson, I’m assuming?” If it were, there was no need to worry about mistaken identities.

Viceroy smirked. “Oh, it’s certainly someone near and dear to his heart.” He put the Fenton Finder back on the table. “Do you mind if we join the others? I wouldn’t mind getting a look at your other version of this unit. With your permission, I’d like to try to modify the design.”

“For this one particular unit, yes? For personal use only?”

Her guard was met with a knowing smile. “Precisely, Mrs. Fenton. You needn’t worry that we’ll use it for anything else, and we’ll see you adequately compensated.”

-|-

It wouldn’t be the first time they’d tried voice recognition. It would have worked last time if it hadn’t been for McFist’s temper or his robot’s vulnerability, but building a _tracker_ instead of just a _detector_ …. He should have thought of that ages ago, tried that instead of just developing a tracker that was active solely when the Ninja was active. Of course, he couldn’t have known the tracking dye would be useless when the Ninja wasn’t wearing his suit, and it was fortunate for him that McFist had been too distracted to berate him more than usual. This new invention, however, would be a Ninja Finder. They had plenty of samples of the Ninja’s voice. If the Ninja—the _unmasked_ Ninja—was in a crowd of students, and was _talking_ , then he could find the Ninja that way.

Incorporating pheromone-sensing wouldn’t be a bad idea, either. The Ninja used those smoke bombs so often that it was very likely the scent lingered once he blended into the crowd again, and it would cut down on the risk of misidentification.

Perhaps McFist was right about these Fentons and their ideas.

He might even be able to build a little electronic bug—something more inconspicuous than his mood juice fly—and install the tracker in _that_ , have it hone in on the Ninja and tag him so that they could track him down.

This certainly had potential.

And, to be honest, by the time the Fentons had finished showing off their inventions, Viceroy had full respect for them as inventors—even Jack, who had rubbed him the wrong way at first. Their Booo-merang technology reinforced his idea of trying to plant a bug on the Ninja to identify him when he was unmasked. If nothing else, they could deploy a robot from one of the other storage rooms to lure out the Ninja and plant the device during a fight.

The Ninja certainly talked enough during his fights; it should be relatively easy.

Some of their technology was already similar; the Fenton Peeler automatically suited up its wielder upon activation, much like the McSterminator, and Viceroy had built his share of guns, lasers, and blasters. Some had absolutely no transferable value that he could see—he couldn’t catch the Ninja with something that looked like a dream catcher or a vacuum—but he was intrigued about the net guns. 

Particularly those with sticky nets, as the Ninja was awfully good at getting himself out of a sticky spot in the first place, but if they could just hold him in place long enough to be unmasked….

The Fenton children returned before the day was done. They mumbled some apologies but otherwise ignored the adults and hung back to talk amongst themselves. Viceroy noticed one of the Robo-Apes watching them. He would check later to see if it had gathered anything useful, but he doubted the children had discovered the identity of the Ninja in the short time they’d been here—in all likelihood, they hadn’t encountered him at all and knew nothing about him—so he didn’t expect to find anything of note.

But the girl had sharp eyes, sharper than even her tongue, and the boy couldn’t hide his suspicion of them—though that was more likely because of the potential FentonWorks deal than anything else—so Viceroy didn’t want to discount them quite yet.

Marci insisted on taking the Fenton family out to dinner once Bash got home from football practice—to welcome them properly, she said, because it would be disgraceful on their part not to take the Fentons out at least once after they’d come all this way—and Viceroy had an excuse to be alone then and work in his lab.

He’d stay up all night if he had to, but he certainly planned to have something to present to McFist in the morning—even if it was just a prototype.

-|-

“Okay, okay, I’m ready this time, I _swear_.”

“You said that last time, Cunningham.”

Randy cracked one eye open to look at Howard. They were in his room, and they’d planned to play Grave Puncher 10 until one of them came up with an idea about what to do about the brainwashed kid, but that was before Randy had found the pressurized can of whipped cream in the fridge. “Yeah, but this time I mean it. Come on. Hit me.”

“All right, one cream beard coming up.”

Randy could hear Howard shaking the can, and he snickered in spite of himself.

“Hey, no laughing.”

“I’m not laughing,” Randy insisted, despite all evidence to the contrary. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut again. “See? Not laughing.”

Howard gave him eyebrows, and Randy could _feel_ the cream tickling his real ones, threatening to droop down into his eyes.

“Still not laughing,” Randy choked out, though he was valiantly trying not to breathe because then he _would_ be laughing.

“And…done!” Howard handed him the can. “My turn, pronto, then we get some pics. Quick, before your beard droops.”

“Before my beard droops,” Randy repeated, still trying not to laugh. It became a more difficult feat when a dollop of cream dropped off right in front of his left eye. “Right.” He used the rest of the can on Howard, giving him a bushy unibrow and rather impressive facial hair. “Okay, c’mon, we gotta be quick. Hunch over like an old guy.”

Howard obeyed as Randy grabbed his phone to snap a picture. “Like this, sonny?” Howard asked, adopting a shaky voice and putting one hand on his back as if he couldn’t straighten and it pained him.

Randy cracked up anew. “Yes! Exactly! Great, do me now, then together, and then we’ll go out to the yard and start filming. We might get something for Heidi’s show.”

The picture-taking didn’t take long, but they never did make it outside before they started licking the whipped cream off their faces as far as their tongues would reach. “Next time,” Howard said as he licked his fingers, “we get two cans and see who can eat it the fastest.”

“You’re on. That’ll be so bruce.” But he could only distract himself for so long, and Randy’s cheerful mood wavered. He wiped half-heartedly at a stain on his shirt. “What am I going to do about that kid? Did you get any ideas?”

Howard shrugged. “Check the Nomicon again.”

“The Nomicon’s not letting me in. Not yet, anyway.” He pulled it out of his bag and tried to open it to prove his point, but it still remained stubbornly closed. “I just don’t want this to turn into something like Franz Nukid again. Or Lucius O’ThunderPunch.”

“Okay, first off, we’re pretty sure the guy’s not a robot, and no new kids have shown up. And attacking _you_ isn’t exactly going to make the rest of the school cheer him on.”

“I know, but…. ‘The most dangerous enemy often wears the mask of an ally’. What if it _is_ someone from school and I just never noticed?”

“Pretty sure there isn’t any kid in school who hates the Ninja.”

“Yeah, but…. ‘To underestimate your enemy is to invite your defeat’.”

“Are you just going to quote the Nomicon at me?”

“No, but—”

“If you quote the Nomicon at me again, this conversation is over.”

“Yeah, but—”

“But?”

“But ‘the Ninja who looks the other way fails to see the attack’.”

Howard rolled his eyes. “What part of this entire conversation is _looking the other way_?”

“I don’t know, how about the part where I can’t see the solution?” Randy paused. “Of course, ‘a problem at a distance may be a solution up close’. Except I don’t really think that applies here, do you? Because this isn’t really the same. This is more…. This is less abstract-y, wouldn’t you say? Howard?” Randy blinked and looked around. “Howard?”

“Conversation’s over, Cunningham,” came the yell. From the kitchen, Randy guessed.

“But I didn’t mean it like that!” Randy shouted back, scrambling to his feet. “I’m just trying to figure this out.” 

He made it to the kitchen in time to see Howard slam the pantry door shut, his arms full of the junk food Randy’s mother hadn’t hidden quite well enough. “Look, why don’t you wait until this kid shows up again and figure it out as you go? He didn’t turn up until _after_ you destanked the girl, right? So he’s probably waiting for you to show yourself first. If you don’t Ninja out, then the other kid will be forced to show up first and you can get the jump on him.”

“But what if it’s Ninja o’ clock?” Randy challenged, crossing his arms. “See, I like your idea, but I don’t really see how it’s going to work.”

Howard snorted. “How many robots do you think McFist has left? And of those, how many do you think he’s going to send out after you just destroyed half his stock? He’s gonna want upgrades first so they have a chance at beating you.”

“They never have a chance at beating me. I’m _the Ninja_.”

“Oh, they totally have a chance at beating you,” Howard countered. “They definitely would if I were building them, anyway. You just usually have a lot of dumb luck on your side.”

“Okay, fine, but that won’t stop the Sorcerer from stanking anyone.” He couldn’t argue that luck wasn’t in his favour, even if the idea of Howard designing robots was laughable—especially if his robots turned out to be anything like his dad’s.

“Maybe it’ll be a quiet week. There have only been, what, two incidents where kids mutated into monsters? That ain’t bad. Normally you’d be calling this boring.”

“Monday after school _really_ wasn’t boring,” Randy corrected, recalling the basketball team. It was lucky he and Howard had still been around planning out angles for their latest video to post to Shoob Tube. Sure, he generally did try to stay within earshot of screams until after-school activities wound down, but still. Practices didn’t garner much for audiences, usually, or typically elicit enough of a response in the kids that the Sorcerer could stank them, but more than one non-teacher adult had had the misfortune of sitting in on that particular practice. “And how can you forget about all the robots I had to fight today?”

“Whatever. Besides them, it’s been one breakup. Two more days, Cunningham, and then school’s out for the weekend and it’s a lot harder for the Sorcerer to stank anyone. We’ll keep our ears to the ground, try to cut off anything that looks like it might score some stankage.”

Randy watched as Howard tore open a bag of chips and began stuffing his face. “By ‘we’, you mean ‘me’, don’t you?”

“I’m not the Ninja,” Howard said with a shrug. “It’s not really my problem, you know?”

Randy sighed. “Give me some chips.”

“Get your own.”

“Those _are_ mine!”

“There’s more in the cupboard.”

“Yeah, but….” Randy sighed and went to grab some. Howard was not meant to be separated from his chosen snacks. But he did raise a good point.

Randy would deal with the brainwashed kid tomorrow. If nothing else, maybe the Nomicon would tell him something more concrete.

He just hoped that thermos didn’t spray sleeping gas or something.

-|-

“This seems like a slow week to me,” the Sorcerer said as he cradled his chin in his hands. He’d had some hope with that basketball team two days ago. He’d actually gotten as close to escape then as he had in the past two weeks. But after that, there had only been _one_ student who had been vulnerable enough to be susceptible to his latest batch of fetid brew. Just one.

One wasn’t enough to generate enough chaos to free him.

The Sorcerer heaved a sigh. “Doesn’t this seem like a slow week to you?”

The rat squeaked at him.

“Yes, that’s what I thought,” the Sorcerer answered. 

The rat squeaked again.

“No, they won’t have been successful. They would have contacted me if they’d been successful. They contact me enough when they _aren’t_ successful for me to be very sure of that.” But he still had hope that this partnership with Hannibal McFist would pan out. It was an easy enough thing to give the imbecile of a man whatever superpower he wanted.

It was also an easy enough thing to then put him in some sort of situation where it would be of no use to him. The Sorcerer wouldn’t be going back on his word that way (why go back on your word when it was much more fun to make people regret ensuring a promise?) and it would still keep McFist from meddling and inadvertently helping the Ninja—something the Sorcerer was convinced would happen if he wasn’t careful. 

He was still plotting (there were only so many things he could do to pass the time) when he became aware of an unnatural presence, something dark but with a bite to it that suggested—

“Spirits.”

The spirit in question materialized to mortal eyes, spooking his one friend in this forsaken pit. “Well, I can’t say I expected this.” The ghost was a woman, a shade of some sort, more shadow than form at the moment. But he could feel her energy, her power, and knew she could easily shift to something more corporeal. “You’re a magic-user.”

“Sorcerer.” Magic-user made him sound so…mediocre.

The ghost sniffed. “Not a very good one, are you? I’d bet you didn’t even know what you were getting into in the beginning.” She turned, took a better look at her surroundings, and concluded, “My, my, haven’t we been here for a while. I can’t say I’m terribly fond of what you’ve done with the place.”

The Sorcerer cocked his head at her, ignoring the jibe for now. “You’ve come to feed, haven’t you? Heard the dinner bell at last?”

“This is just a brief stopover. I never stay long.”

“You need to keep searching for fresh meat.”

She bristled. “Nothing so vulgar. My method is much more sophisticated than you imply.”

She fed upon emotions, used them to strengthen herself; he could smell it wafting off of her, taste it in the air. Misery. Humiliation. Desperation. Despair. 

This could work in his favour.

“What do you say we strike a deal?”

The response was a haughty sniff. “What would I gain from a deal with you?”

He didn’t know enough about her to know what she couldn’t refuse, but he did have logic on his side in this. “My word that I will not interfere with your…work. Not immediately, which will give you more time to feed. I will wait until you’ve, ahem, _influenced_ most of the student body. Otherwise….” The Sorcerer let the sentence trail off, but he could not tell how effective his unspoken threat had been. He knew she had heard it; he might be chained up, but he had power enough to drive her from here if he tried. She knew it or she wouldn’t have sought him out, wouldn’t have tried to get a better idea of its source.

There was a pause. “I’ve no guarantee you’d keep your word.”

“And I’ve no guarantee of yours,” the Sorcerer countered, “but when it is most beneficial for both of us to agree on a little temporary partnership, what value is there in breaking off any deal we strike and rendering it null?”

“What would you gain from this?”

“There is one particular student who will have more grandiose ideas of heroics than the rest. I’m sure you know the type.”

“I’ve encountered the like.”

“Hmm. Yes. Suck him dry.” There was no need to tell her that she would practically guarantee his freedom if he waited to transform the students until most of them were feeling the effects of her feeding. The chaos that would reign when the weak and vulnerable mutated into monsters would terrorize the remaining students and faculty. He could savour his victory before crushing the Ninja in person.

The shadow whirled and the shade took on the form of a woman. Smartly dressed and sharp-featured, she was someone who looked a good deal more intelligent than McFist. She joined him on his stone, and his only friend in this place scampered to hide behind him—perhaps thinking _he_ was the lesser of the two evils. The Sorcerer decided not to be offended; the sewer rat did know him best, after all. 

The spectre observed them both for a moment, her eyes lingering on his chains as if she could deduce his entire story from those alone. “Even if I did find the right boy, I wouldn’t drain him completely. I don’t care for the taste.”

Negotiation time. “Oh, you’ll know him. He fancies himself a Ninja.” It was risky to say much else on the subject, though he had no doubt she’d be able to piece together most of the truth once she began feeding. Any interaction with the students, even with the faculty, would make it plain. “I would appreciate it if you crushed his confidence, perhaps left him to wallow in his own self-pity?”

“I could perhaps arrange that,” the ghost allowed. “You may call me Spectra, Sorcerer. Now, why don’t we hammer out the terms of our agreement?”

She planned to double-cross him if she could work out a way to do it. No matter; he would be in a worse spot if she left without ever beginning. Even if she did not crush the spirit of the Ninja herself, he could easily do that once he was free. 

She no doubt suspected him of withholding information, but she’d be hard-pressed to find out exactly what that information was. It was a simple enough thing to maintain the upper hand, even from his prison. And it didn’t matter in the long run; they had nothing to gain from breaking their pact and everything to lose. She would be more successful in her feeding if he did not interfere, as transforming students would cause the others to rally behind the Ninja and shake off their own miseries, and his strike would be more powerful if he could mutate more students at once.

Given the circumstances, it was the perfect partnership.


	5. Chapter 5

Randy was extra vigilant at school the next day. The kid never put in an appearance—not so far, at least, and it was lunch now—and no robots appeared. He’d admit he’d passed a few kids in school that he’d _thought_ would be vulnerable enough to be stanked, but unless the Sorcerer was asleep or something—which Randy kind of doubted because he _never_ missed an opportunity to stank people; it was like he could smell it on them or something—then it wasn’t anything to worry about.

Randy glanced at the outcast table, where Juggo, Accordion Dave, and Theresa were all sniffling or sobbing, and Julian looked to be at a loss of how to help.

It probably wasn’t anything to worry about.

Randy looked over at the table where the band geeks congregated. Pradeep was standing there with a tray like he still expected to sit down, but no one was making any room for him. Flute Girl was choking and snuffling and spitting (unintentionally) at anyone who was sitting too close to her, which happened to be Bucky, who also looked _really_ glum for Bucky. The twins were all out sobbing into each other’s shoulders, and Stevens was playing ‘The Sad Trombone’ over and over and _over_ and nearly looked as if he meant it for himself instead of anyone else.

“Hey, uh, Howard?” Randy asked. “Have you noticed anything weird today?”

“Unless you mean the fact that the lunch lady mixed together cheese and gravy to put over the fries today, then no.” Howard swallowed his mouthful. “You really need to try these, Cunningham. They are the _cheese_.” Randy reached for one but Howard slapped his hand away. “Oh, no, these are mine. You can get your _own_ gravy-cheese fries.”

Randy looked down at his own tray. He hadn’t touched it, but— “I did. You’re eating mine now.”

“You snooze, you lose.”

There was a slight sound and flash of red from his bag. Randy frowned and got to his feet. “I’ll be right back.” He stepped away, bag in hand, before coming back and adding, “Don’t eat all my cheese-gravy fries.”

“It’s _gravy-cheese_ fries,” Howard corrected as Randy ran off. “If you say it the other way around, it sounds like cheese-flavoured gravy!” A pause. “Of course, if you say it this way, it sounds like gravy-flavoured cheese….”

Randy took cover in the janitor’s closet—it was nearer than the washroom, and he and Howard were on good terms with Sundown so it was cool—and pulled out the Nomicon. “Okay, now that you’re ready to taoo—”

He didn’t land so much as stop falling this time. Designs spun around him, and words formed almost immediately. **THE TAINTED SPIRIT POISONS THE SPIRIT**.

“Uh huh,” Randy said after reading it aloud. “Okay, but I’m not really following. How does this tainted poison spirit thing work, exactly?” He was whirled around in a gust of wind and saw new words piecing themselves together. “Oh, okay, so you weren’t done. I get it. It’s cool. And….” Randy peered closer. “ **THE NINJA WHO BELIEVES IN HIS STRENGTH ALONE IS THE WEAKEST OF ALL**. What the juice, Nomicon? That’s like the _opposite_ of ‘believe in the weapon that is in the suit’! Even if you kinda meant the sword and not me. Because it is my strength that has been keeping this town safe. So that don’t make no sense.”

The symbols whirled around him, however, and Randy sat up and rubbed his head. “You are making less sense than usual,” he muttered, running the back of his hand over his mouth when he realized he’d been drooling again. “I’m supposed to get a lot more out of you when I shloomp on things. You know that, right?”

The Ninja who believes in his strength alone is the weakest of all. That was clearer than the tainted spirit poison bit. But maybe…. Maybe the second part wasn’t the opposite of the first advice he’d ever received from the Nomicon after all. Because it wasn’t his strength _alone_ that had helped him keep Norrisville safe since he’d become the Ninja. It was also all the weapons that came with the suit. And luck. Howard was right; that _was_ a major part of it. And his training did tend to pay off, so even when it didn’t make sense—like now—the Nomicon helped him, too. 

“Okay, so it’s not just strength. I’ve gotta remember I’ve got mad Ninja-ing skills and pure dumb luck on my side, too. Along with lots of steel and other really bruce weapons ‘n’ stuff. Right. I can do that. Simple.”

It just didn’t really tell him anything about everyone else.

If that’s what the first part of the Nomicon’s message had been referring to, it was going to take him a _while_ to decode that one. Maybe it just meant bad moods were catching? Or maybe there was something else in those cheese-gravy fries. Except the lunch lady hadn’t been replaced, and they (miraculously) hadn’t had a case of food poisoning yet.

It might not kill him to just ask someone what was up. That would probably help. And even if Howard would laugh at him for thinking it, it was his duty. 

Randy had barely stepped out of the closet before he was on the floor again. “Heidi?” he asked as he pushed himself up so he wasn’t flat on his back. “Aren’t you supposed to, you know, be newscasting something right about now?”

Howard’s sister pushed herself to her feet. He scrambled up on his own when she didn’t offer a hand. “What’s the point in it, Andy?”

“Randy. It’s not that hard. I’m your brother’s best friend. _Randy_.”

Heidi shrugged the correction off and wiped at her eyes. “I’m never going to make it big anyway. I’m going to….” Her breath hitched. “I’m going to end up just like my mom!”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I never said that.”

Heidi sniffed. “You didn’t have to. I can see it in your face. It’s what everyone thinks, isn’t it? I know it is. And….” She took a shuddering breath and shook her head. “I’m going to Principal Slimovitz to resign. You can just…. Just go back to Howard, Sandy. I need to make my last broadcast.”

Randy blinked. That was…weird. Usually Heidi was all ‘Hey, it’s Hizzle-Dizzle and we’re live from the caf, ‘cause today’s the day we get the down low on exactly how much meat is in the mystery meat surprise’ or something like that. She wasn’t…whatever this was.

Randy headed back to the lunchroom and slid into an empty seat at the outcast table. He wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the fact that they didn’t have out their figurines that would’ve been a dead-giveaway that they were back to playing games as part of Der Monster Klub. “Hey, guys,” he said brightly, hoping to lighten the mood. “How’s it going?”

Theresa took one look at him and burst into tears anew.

“Not so good?” Randy asked.

“It is the evil,” Julian confided, leaning in close to Randy to avoid being overheard. “They have all been taken by the evil.”

“Riiiight.” Randy fixed a smile on his face. “And what makes you say that?”

“Ignore him.” It was Theresa, who was scrubbing at her eyes in a valiant but futile effort to rid herself of her smeared makeup. “He just doesn’t want to accept that we can’t treat this all as a game anymore.”

“It’s a trial where the doubters are taken,” Julian added in a loud whisper, “and the true test of faith is to remain unshaken.”

“Like you?” Randy guessed.

Julian nodded his head eagerly. “Yes! Exactly!”

“Uh huh,” Randy said before turning to Juggo, “and you disagree with him too, right?”

Juggo twirled his otherwise-untouched mashed whatever-it-was around on his plate. “Do you know what my chances are of making it into clown school and pursuing this as a career?”

“Uh….”

“I can’t even make it into the school talent show. How am I supposed to make it into clown school, competing against everyone who’s so much better than me?”

Randy glanced back at Theresa. “Is that what you think about twirling stick school?” Sure, it might be unlikely that Juggo would make it into clown school—Randy had no clue when it came to that kind of thing—but it was definitely unlikely if he gave up before he even tried. Even Randy knew that. Besides, he was pretty good at juggling while on a unicycle.

“There isn’t a baton-twirling school,” Theresa said. “I just…. Randy, I….” She broke off and shook her head, burying her face in her hands again.

“Do I want to ask?” Randy questioned, looking at Dave.

Dave sighed. “Me, I will end up playing my accordion on street corners with some cute animal to attract attention. I will begin doing what I love, but I will grow to resent it and then I will be miserable for the rest of my life.”

Randy blinked.

“The evil,” Julian hissed.

“Who _told_ you that?” And how come these guys _weren’t_ stanked? He could write off Heidi as some sort of fluke—that dumb luck of his, perhaps—but not these guys. Not everyone else, now that he got a chance to look around and realized that half the kids here were, if not crying, at least too depressed to eat. 

Julian usually went in for happily being dark and gloomy or at least taking pride and joy in creepy things, but he was _easily_ the most cheerful person sitting at this table, Randy himself aside. It wasn’t that he expected Accordion Dave to be smiling and laughing, but he did kind of expect Juggo to be juggling everyone’s cutlery and Theresa to be giggling.

“Hey, Cunningham,” Howard called as he walked over to them. “Rachel says I’m supposed to go see this Spectra person. I’ll catch you later.” He paused. “Your fries are safe with me.”

“You ate them, didn’t you?” Randy accused as Howard started off. Howard waved a hand, which Randy assumed meant something along the lines of ‘Yeah, but it’s not my fault. They were just _sitting_ there, _begging_ to be eaten’. 

Howard had cleared the doors before Randy actually processed what he’d said. “Wait, who’s this Spectra person?” 

“Dr. Spectra,” Theresa mumbled, not bothering to look up. “She’s supposed to help us to deal with the monster mutations and make sure we’re prepared for the f-future.” Her voice caught on the last word, and she began sniffling again.

Randy frowned. Between McFist’s robots and the Sorceress, he was learning to become suspicious of new people. Granted, Norrisville High hadn’t had a school councillor since he couldn’t remember when—it was way before his time, from what he gathered—and the idea that Slimovitz might’ve brought someone in wasn’t unheard of. That he was _successful_ was probably unheard of, but it definitely made sense that he’d try. He brought in motivational speakers, and there was Ninja Day and everything else, so he was definitely _trying_ to help people deal with getting stanked all the time. 

At the very least, he helped keep people’s spirits up, which meant fewer monsters even if he didn’t realize it—or realize why, if he did notice.

“Have you guys all talked to her?” Randy asked slowly.

“I haven’t,” Julian confided, “but the call will come. She wants to talk to everyone.” In a quieter but no less thrilled tone, Julian added, “After all, we have all been monsters.”

But that wasn’t true. Howard had never gotten stanked. He’d gotten turned into a zombie, a soupsicle-addicted monster, and a bird-demon, but he’d never gotten stanked. And the only thing Randy had ever turned into was the Ninja. After all, the two of them knew how to _avoid_ getting stanked. It made sense that they’d never transformed under the Sorcerer’s—or the Sorceress’s—power.

Then again, this Spectra person probably didn’t know that—thankfully—and was just assuming that everyone had been stanked at one point or another, which meant Randy would be meeting her soon enough.

That was just as well. He could scope her out then, figure out whether or not he thought she was legit.

But he just…. He needed to figure out what was up. He knew he wasn’t lucky enough for the Sorcerer to just give up; while it would be nice for this eight hundred year standoff to end with him, he wasn’t that delusional. Which meant the Sorcerer was planning something.

Possibly with McFist.

Possibly related to the brainwashed kid.

Which meant that, even if the Nomicon would tell him nothing new, Randy would be better off at least training and figuring out how to take this kid down without doing any major damage—no matter what it might do to his rep to be seen attacking someone who wasn’t stanked. 

-|-

“It’s an ingenious plan,” Viceroy was saying.

“Of course it is! It’s _my_ plan,” McFist burst out. He hesitated. “Uh, what exactly is my ingenious plan?”

Viceroy glared at McFist but knew from experience it made no difference. In a voice that oozed annoyance, he continued, “The tracker is modelled after a mosquito. It’s small and designed to hone in on the smell of the Ninja’s smoke bombs. Once it determines the Ninja is in the vicinity, it will activate the voice recognition system—designed to filter out the chatter of other voices—and use both that _and_ the Ninja’s scent to tag the Ninja himself. If it can get visual confirmation—if the Ninja looks like the Ninja at the time—then all the better, but it’s not necessary. Once the bug has landed, all we’ll need to do is use this tracker to find the Ninja.”

“I love it! It’s the best idea I’ve had yet!”

At least McFist wasn’t crowing about the fact that Viceroy had borrowed the idea, albeit with modification on his part, from the Fentons. He really should have combined his technology earlier; he already had the voice recognition software blueprints from the Franz Nukid experiment, the tracking dye, and his own Ninja Detector—whose technology he was reusing to build a separate receiver for McFist. But this was still progress, however much it resembled pieces of his past experiments and WNDs. “The device is minute, small enough to be mistaken for an insect and easily overlooked.” Viceroy opened his hand.

“Mosquito!” McFist shouted, proceeding to smash the delicate prototype to bits.

Viceroy heaved a sigh and tilted his hand to dump the ruined circuitry onto the floor. He couldn’t salvage anything from it now. But this was why he’d built two prototypes, the second one stronger than the first; it would be more resistant to smashing by those who hadn’t lost an arm in the McFist factory due to a conveyor belt incident. Swatting at bugs was second nature, after all. “Actually, sir, that was the vehicle of _your_ great idea.”

For a split second, McFist almost looked sheepish. Then, “Well, go make another that can’t be destroyed so easily!”

“I already have,” Viceroy told him patiently, “and I’ve already deployed it. I’ve set it to patrol the school grounds, as we know that the Ninja will turn up there sooner or later.” If the Ninja happened to be sick and not at school, the restriction would slow them down—it’s not like they could send out robots while the Fentons were here—but Viceroy was willing to wait a little longer for a sure thing. He’d spent enough time calculating concentrations and determining the expected odour level, the threshold, that would prompt the olfactometer to trigger the voice recognition system. He would wait for his success if it meant there was less chance of error.

“Then we should tell the Sorc—” McFist broke off as his phone began ringing. 

“You’d better get that, sir.” Viceroy knew McFist wasn’t keen on answering it. Viceroy had made his escape, but McFist had had to listen to Jack Fenton blather on about ghosts all morning. The only reason they’d gotten time alone now was because the Fentons had gone for a family lunch, to ‘discuss their circumstances’. McFist was probably afraid Mr. Fenton was ready to resume their earlier session.

McFist scowled but picked up the receiver and barked out, “Hello?”

_“There is a Mr. Catfish Booray here to see you. I have detained him in the lobby, but he insists that he must speak with you.”_ Even from five feet away, the voice of the receptionist—the Robo-Ape in the role, at any rate—carried easily. 

“I don’t need this right now,” McFist muttered. In a louder voice, he asked, “What does he want?”

_“He says that he has relevant information that will be of interest to you but refuses to say anything more before he receives the newest McFist Pad.”_

Viceroy watched McFist gnash his teeth for a moment. Finally, “Fine, give it to him. He wouldn’t have dragged himself out here for nothing.” He slammed down the phone, muttering, “Could’ve had more of those small lobsters and hush puppies if we’d gone to meet him again….”

They were crawdads, and none of the other names they went by included _small lobsters_ except by those who really didn’t know any better. And considering it had taken them two canoes and a fanboat to get to the Shack to meet Booray last time, Viceroy was rather glad that he’d come here.

But McFist was right about one thing; Booray didn’t _like_ leaving his swamp. Whatever information he had was certainly going to be of interest. He just hoped it was right this time and that he hadn’t come up with another name of a student who was the Ninja—only for them to find out said student most certainly was _not_ the Ninja.

Viceroy trailed after McFist as he went to speak with Booray. One of the Robo-Apes—Frank, by the looks of him—handed him the newest version of the McFist Pad on their way out. 

Booray hadn’t gone to any trouble to clean up for his journey out of the swamp. He was still in his trapping clothes, and Viceroy’s nose told him he hadn’t had a shower in anything besides swamp water. This didn’t necessarily mean that he was in any sort of rush—it was unfortunately quite likely he would have come like this under less pressing circumstances, if he was to come at all—but the gesture would have been appreciated.

“That the new one, right?” Booray asked, nodding at the McFist Pad.

“Top of the line, pre-market launch,” Viceroy answered smoothly. “I’ll hand it over when you’ve given us the information.” He wasn’t yet completely convinced this wasn’t a ploy on Booray’s part to get his hands on their latest technology, now that he was aware of McFist’s arguably poor bargaining strategy.

Booray crossed his arms, looked sideways at the Robo-Ape, and seemed to decide that he might not win this battle when it wasn’t on his turf. “Swamp’s haunted,” he said shortly.

“Haunted?” McFist echoed.

“I beg your pardon?” Viceroy asked, raising a sceptical eyebrow. But he remembered what Mrs. Fenton had said the previous day. _Three ghosts_ ….

“People don’t get that deep into my popaty an’ don’t trip no alarms, an’ people don’t vanish afront o’ my own eyes neither. Kid was a ghost, else he wouldn’ta been able to slip my trap. Ninja couldn’t.”

Booray had _caught_ the Ninja? He’d never said that before. He’d just said that the Ninja was Ranginald Bagel—which he clearly wasn’t—but if the Ninja hadn’t been masked at the time….

Viceroy was sure he could get the mind reader up and running without too much difficulty.

“The Ninja couldn’t escape your trap?” McFist repeated, catching on the same point Viceroy had. “Then why don’t you still have him?”

Viceroy sighed and clarified, “When exactly was this?”

Booray levelled them with a look that said, quite plainly, that they’d spent too much time sniffing some particularly ripe swamp gas. “The firs’ time he ever go crisscrossin’ on my popaty. An’ he never got free o’ my rope; he got outta my cage. But this kid, he just there one minute an’ gone the next. Don’t look like no kid I ever caught, an’ I ain’t seein’ things.”

Booray’s claims that he knew the identity of the Ninja might not be unfounded after all. Viceroy mentally calculated how long it would take him to repair that mind reader. He _should_ be able to get it done by mid-afternoon, unless the Fentons hijacked him. McFist certainly wouldn’t put him on something else when this was their best bet—arguably even better than the Ninja Finder, though he knew the value of not having all his eggs in one basket—at finally finding out the identity of the Ninja and capturing him once and for all.

It might even be worth contacting the Sorcerer, since the risk of incurring his wrath was infinitely smaller this time when the likelihood of failure was so much smaller.

But still…. He didn’t like to think that the Fentons were right about their ghosts. And if Booray wasn’t just telling tales last time, then he might not be this time, either. The Fentons backed him in more than just their word; their equipment said the same.

Three ghosts.

A kid who could be caught, a ghost that wasn’t always untouchable, but one who could just as easily slip his bindings—meaning he could become that way at will. Just like he could hide himself from their prying eyes, if not from the Fenton equipment.

Perhaps they deserved even more credit than he’d given them yet.

And their own children…. The girl, on the defensive, the skeptic turned believer. The boy who watched their every movement. He still hadn’t had time to review the information on those two that the Robo-Apes had collected—he’d been too intent on finishing up that Ninja Finder to take the time—but now he wished he had. He would bet his vacation time that they knew something about this ghost. Perhaps it had even followed them from their hometown, given that Norrisville had never had trouble with ghosts before. Viceroy had never assumed they existed, exactly, but if he had he would have thought the Sorcerer sufficient to drive them away.

But it was awfully curious, if it were true, that a ghost would willingly follow ghost hunters.

The outside door burst open and a kid tumbled through, barely avoiding tripping over his own feet. He ran straight to the Robo-Ape receptionist, not even glancing in their direction. “McFist,” he gasped. “Mr. Hannibal McFist. When can I see him?”

“You expecting company, Mr. Robot Hand?” Booray asked with a sidelong glance at McFist.

From the look on his face, McFist didn’t recognize the boy either.

“Do you have an appointment?” the Robo-Ape questioned.

The boy shook his head. “No, but…. The Fentons. They’re here, yeah? Danny said….” The boy trailed off as he looked around, spotting them for the first time. Recognition dawned instantly. “Mr. McFist!” he exclaimed. “Mr. Viceroy!”

Oh, it was _glorious_ to finally be recognized. It was disappointingly rare for someone to know his name, despite his position.

“Quit preening,” McFist snapped at him. Then, with a look at the kid, “Who are you?”

“Tucker Foley, at your service.” The kid did a little bow before reaching into his backpack and producing a thick manila envelope. “I came to drop off my resumé.” Perhaps seeing the disbelief on their faces, he added, “And, um, I compiled a portfolio of what I’ve done, in case you wanted something like that, too.” He hesitated, his eyes on Booray. 

“Name’s Catfish,” Booray said bluntly.

The kid grinned. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Catfish. Are you here to apply for the job, too?”

“Job?” McFist repeated. “What job?” He shot an accusing glare at Viceroy.

“The summer internship,” Tucker said before Viceroy could open his mouth. “And if you _do_ cut a deal with Danny’s parents, I can help you figure out their weapons. I know how most of them work.” 

“Summer internship?” McFist repeated, his glare intensifying.

“You _said_ you wouldn’t mind if I recruited some non-mechanical help for the more…mundane side of things here at McFist Industries,” Viceroy said simply. “There are times I would appreciate a second pair of eyes that weren’t designed by me to avoid any potential mix-ups that might come with cost cutting.” There were the workers in the upper levels, of course, but Viceroy wanted someone he could take under his wing, someone who had more than just a head for numbers or mechanics or whatever it was. 

McFist grumbled to himself for a moment before snapping at the kid, “Hand in your resumé at the desk!”

Tucker practically threw the envelope at the receptionist before spinning on his heels and coming right back to them. “Can I get your autographs? And a tour? I heard you hold tours.”

“ _Viceroy_ ….”

“I’ll have someone give you a personal tour,” Viceroy promised, thinking that getting the boy out of McFist’s sight would be best for everyone’s health. “We’ll leave the autographs for you to pick up on the way out.” He gave the Robo-Ape a look, and it was attune enough to reading his facial expressions—he had to train them to read those somehow—to know precisely what he wanted and called for one of its colleagues to show the lad around.

“Awesome!” Tucker exclaimed, his grin so wide it threatened to split his face.

Turning back to McFist and Booray, he suggested, “Why don’t we continue our conversation upstairs?” When Booray seemed to hesitate, Viceroy added in a low voice, “I can hook you up with some new optional extensions for that McFist Pad.”

Booray smiled. “You got yourself a good man, Mr. Robot Hand. He know how to talk to people.”

-|-

“Tuck made it,” Danny told Jazz in a low voice. “I’ve filled him in, told him to keep an eye out, but….”

“He’s still excited?”

“He probably would be happier if we turned out to be completely wrong, yeah.”

“But he’ll—”

“Tucker won’t let me down, Jazz. He won’t let _us_ down. If we just let him do his thing, he’ll figure out more about McFist Industries in an hour than we’ve managed to find out since we got here.”

“But—”

“You trust me, don’t you, Jazz?”

“Of course,” Jazz whispered, touching his shoulder. “I always have, little brother.”

“Then trust my judgement when I say you can trust Tucker not to lose his head. He’s not going to suddenly turn around and help the enemy just because of some job opportunity. He’s smarter than that. He can help us without messing up his chances of anything in the future.”

Jazz sighed. “It’s not just that. It’s…. What if Tucker finds out something important? The only line of connection we have with him is through his cell phone.”

“And his PDA, and his—”

“His _electronics_ , then,” Jazz corrected. “I would feel a lot better about this if he at least had Fenton Phones. Anything that McFist wouldn’t be able to counter easily if he _is_ the enemy. There has to be something….”

“Cool it, Jazz. Tuck’ll be fine. If all else fails, there’s a pair of Fenton Phones in the Spectre Speeder, and I’ve got mine…somewhere. I can find it, anyway. I just need to figure out which pocket I shoved it into. It won’t take long.”

Jazz rolled her eyes, but she had no time to reply because their parents were coming back to the table—Maddie from a phone call (probably one of McFist’s henchmen) and Jack from the buffet. Instead, she gave Danny a sharp look as she speared her last piece of chicken.

Danny nodded, letting her know he got the message. They had to move soon, and they had to be prepared. Tucker’s arrival wouldn’t buy them time, necessarily—at best, he’d act as a distraction—so they needed to do as much as they could before they got the lowdown from him, at which point they’d need to adapt their plans. Danny wasn’t sure what worried him more, the planning or the adapting before the real fighting even began, because he was more used to making split second decisions than plotting in advance, but he trusted Jazz, too.

Some of Jazz’s ideas were awful—he was never going to call Skulker Ghost X—but her strategies were usually pretty good. Way better than his, anyway. And if this McFist guy _was_ in the same league with Vlad, strategy-wise, then Danny knew he wasn’t the best person to be calling the shots. Despite all the time he’d spent facing Vlad, he hadn’t improved enough when it came to this sort of thing.

It would be so much easier if they were just in Amity Park, where a ghost flying around _wouldn’t_ cause quite as much chaos. It would still send people running to get out of the way, and his parents would still come the moment they caught wind of the fight, but ghosts suddenly popping up in a town where no one probably _really_ believed in them….

Sure, _maybe_ the ghost he’d sensed earlier was benign, someone like the Dairy King, but that didn’t mesh so well with the feeling Danny got. 

It didn’t mesh so well with the destruction he’d seen in the school, either, even if the ninja ghost had chosen to run instead of fight him. For all he knew, his reputation preceded him. Frostbite and the ghosts of the Far Frozen had known about him long before he’d ever met them, after all, and Sidney Poindexter and practically every other ghost he’d ever come across had known he was the halfa fifteen seconds after meeting him, if not before. So, this ghost either was afraid of him or—more likely, given his luck—he’d retreated to have more time to figure out something big.

He would have felt _much_ better if he’d been able to find the ghost when he’d gone on patrol last night—or if he was able to get away from his parents more often to scout more frequently. Jazz was going to try to come up with some excuse for them to leave this afternoon again, but if they didn’t buy it, it would be a dangerously long time before he could scout the area again.

This wasn’t Amity Park. They’d be watching him here. He couldn’t just sneak off without them noticing, without them questioning. 

It was a lot harder to help people when his parents were actually watching him.

“Look, Maddie! This cookie looks like the smiley face ones you make me!”

Maddie smiled. “It does,” she agreed, sliding into her place next to Jazz. “And _that_ one,” she added, pointing to another chocolate chip cookie, “has a pattern like an ectopus!”

“You’re right!” Jack exclaimed, promptly eating it. 

Maddie turned to Jazz and Danny. “I know you don’t want to sit around for another round of negotiations. Why don’t you two explore the town this afternoon? It’ll give you a chance to enjoy yourselves.”

Danny hadn’t told them about Tucker’s arrival yet—he’d cross that bridge when he came to it—so this seemed like an amazing stroke of luck, and he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He grinned at Jazz, who frowned but didn’t say anything. She picked up her water and took a slow drink, staring at him as if she expected him to read some words of caution in her expression.

He ignored her.

“Sounds great,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist introducing poutine to Norrisville High. *grins*


	6. Chapter 6

“We should go to the library,” Jazz said.

Danny rolled his eyes. “We aren’t going to find anything useful in the library.”

“We will if this ninja is a local ghost,” argued Jazz. 

“Fine. You can go, but don’t be disappointed if you don’t find anything. I’ll look around on my own.”

“Danny, you _promised_ —”

“Nope. Didn’t.”

“You didn’t even let me—”

“I didn’t promise I wouldn’t go off on my own.”

Jazz’s lips thinned. “At least be careful this time.”

“I was careful _last_ time.” Jazz produced a thermos from her bag and held it out. Danny huffed but grabbed it. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Keep your phone on you. I’ll find those Fenton Phones you swear you have in case Tucker decides to try to use them.” She chuckled. “If anyone asks, I can always say they’re earrings.” Her smile became a knowing one, and she added, “Now wipe that silly grin off your face and get going, little brother. I’m counting on you.”

“Cover me?”

“Always.” Jazz moved to stand so he was between her and the wall—it wasn’t the best cover, but they couldn’t see anyone else around anyway—and Danny transformed. Jazz managed to turn around and plant a kiss in his hair before he had a chance to turn intangible, and she said, “Phone me if you find something—or if you need me.”

Danny wasn’t exactly thrilled that Jazz worried so much about him—in her own way, she was way worse than their parents, and that was saying something—but he appreciated it all the same. After the fact, anyway. “Okay. You, too.” And before she could launch into another lecture about how he should be more careful, he turned invisible and flew off to the school.

He wasn’t surprised that his ghost sense went off when he got near, but he didn’t drop his invisibility just yet. It wouldn’t do much to fool a fellow ghost, at least not for very long, but he wasn’t sure how used to ghosts these kids were. Even if the ninja ghost had been around for a while, he kinda doubted the kids were really accustomed to ghosts. And if Jazz was wrong and the ninja ghost _wasn’t_ a local ghost, then it was even less likely that these kids would be very accepting of him.

This wasn’t Amity Park. 

People wouldn’t know he was trying to protect them.

There was surprisingly little sign of yesterday’s damage. Sure, all the lockers along one wing were taped off, but everything seemed to be running smoothly in spite of that. It was almost like being back in Amity Park. Maybe that ninja _had_ been around a while.

Although….

Danny paused, floating invisible and intangible in the middle of one hallway. It was the tail end of lunch, from the looks of things, but the students lounging in the hallways instead of in the cafeteria weren’t exactly…. Well, they seemed more miserable than normal. He didn’t expect everyone to be like Jazz, but this was way below Sam’s level of pseudo-unhappiness. 

And the last time he’d heard kids talk like this, worrying over the horrible things that awaited them in the future….

“I hate my life,” one kid grumbled. The boy dragged his feet down the hallway and didn’t look up until another taller boy had run up to him and actually shaken him.

“Howard,” the taller boy repeated, “what gives?”

Howard gave a funny sort of shrug in response, and Danny began to trail them. Jazz was always telling him to be careful, and listening in was a much safer way to confirm his growing suspicions. If that ninja wasn’t the only ghost around, or if he was another one like Spectra….

“Don’t bother, Cunningham. You probably have something more important to do than worry about me anyway.”

The taller one frowned. “C’mon, we’re best buds. I’d never leave you hanging like that.”

Howard snorted. “You got a short memory, Cunningham. Yesterday ain’t that long ago.”

“You know what I mean. Under _normal_ circumstances.”

“Yeah, which is never. So just…go do your thing. You don’t need me. You never need me.”

“What the juice, Howard? You know that isn’t true. I’d have been so shoobed if it weren’t for you. You know how many times you’ve saved my cheese.”

Howard shrugged. “Whatever. You don’t have to keep pretending. But you’re supposed to go see her now, anyway. Just maybe try to lie better than you usually can.”

 _You’re supposed to go see her now_. Maybe it _was_ Spectra? It pretty much had to be. So if the ninja ghost wasn’t another one of her lackeys like Bertrand, then maybe it had tried to fight her off. To defend his territory, the same reason his parents assumed he defended Amity Park.

Of course, Danny wasn’t so sure the ninja ghost had actually gone up against Spectra. Things probably would’ve looked a bit different and he wouldn’t have tried to go against him with a sword. Maybe he’d run into Bertrand first. Bertrand would fight with direct, physical attacks. A sword made more sense with him.

Danny followed Cunningham, and sure enough his ghost sense went off again about the same time he could see the words on the paper taped onto the office door: _Dr. Penelope Spectra_. Just his luck; it figured she wouldn’t stay in the Ghost Zone.

Although if she’d been here any length of time, that would definitely be a reason for his parents to want to come. It would not be the first ‘family vacation’ that had ended with a family ghost hunt or stakeout or something else he’d found equally embarrassing after he’d grown out of thinking they had the coolest jobs ever and before realizing his parents weren’t quite as nuts as he’d thought.

Only…she couldn’t have been here long or he would have noticed her— _and_ the ninja ghost—the first time he’d done a flyover. What was up with this town?

Maybe Jazz hadn’t been so crazy when she’d suggested a high incidence of natural portals as being a reason for their parents wanting to come here. It didn’t feel like Amity Park, where the air almost crackled with ecto-energy at times, but maybe that had more to do with the two stable portals in town than anything else.

Yeesh, maybe he _would_ miss Jazz and all her observations and her worrying when she went away to college in the fall.

If Spectra noticed Danny’s invisible presence in her office, she gave no sign of it. “Randall Cunningham?” she asked brightly. 

The boy pulled a face. “Randy.”

Spectra smiled widely. “Have a seat, Randy.”

Randy did, but even Danny could pick up on his uneasiness as he shifted in his spot. “Um…. I don’t mean to, uh, question your methods or anything, but Howard seemed, I dunno, happier before his session with you.”

Spectra chuckled. “I can assure you, I do my work well. It’s best for all parties involved.”

Randy frowned, which was kinda curious because Danny wasn’t sure Spectra had really given him a reason to be suspicious. Sure, he felt all sorts of bad vibes coming from her now, but he hadn’t the first time he’d met her.

“But I’m glad you’re expressing concern for your friend,” Spectra continued. “It’s always encouraging to know that another’s fears are unfounded.”

Randy’s face betrayed his confusion. “What fears? Did Howard say something?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s told you already,” Spectra said in a dismissive tone. “And since you are such a concerned friend, you’ll have been there when he’s said it instead of running off somewhere and leaving him behind.”

Danny might not know Randy well, but he could see the effect of Spectra’s words, could practically feel the guilt—mixed with traces of betrayal that such a thing was said to someone who so clearly didn’t belong, didn’t _know_ —radiating off of the boy.

He couldn’t let Spectra get any further along.

Danny moved so he wasn’t blocking the door before materializing between Randy and Spectra. Randy nearly jumped out of his skin, but Danny supposed that couldn’t be helped; ghosts _did_ scare people, after all. Spectra’s smile, however, spread—like she knew he’d been there the entire time. It was not exactly a comforting feeling.

Danny built an ectoblast in his hands, hoping Randy had the sense to get out sooner rather than later. The kid was creeping toward the door, but he kept watching the two of them like he wasn’t sure he should leave. 

It might’ve been smarter just to grab him and phase him through the floor. It wouldn’t have held Spectra off for long, but it might’ve bought him a few seconds to take cover before the fighting began. 

Too late now, though.

“Well,” Spectra said softly, “if it isn’t the creepy little boy with creepy little powers.”

Danny couldn’t quite stomp down on the surge of defensive anger that rose within him, and he knew his eyes were burning a brighter green than usual. “Get out,” he barked, as much to Randy as to Spectra. He didn’t particularly want to fight indoors. He wasn’t sure how good a budget this school had for property damage. The kids weren’t used to ghosts, wouldn’t know what was best to do in a ghost fight. And Danny had no idea where Bertrand or the ninja ghost was, and even with his ghost sense, he had no sight lines in here.

But he’d fight in here if he had to, because he wasn’t so sure he wanted to physically tackle Spectra and phase her through the wall until he’d fired at least one shot. They hadn’t tangled in a while, and though he was still confident he’d beat her, he didn’t really like the fact that she was _here_. It made him think she had something else up her sleeve. 

He wasn’t Jazz, who analyzed everything. He wasn’t Sam, who could piece together random clues to figure out exactly what was going on—well, he couldn’t do that very quickly or very often, anyway. And he definitely wasn’t Tucker, who could utilize any technology within reach and turn it into the precise ghost hunting weapon he happened to need. 

But he was getting pretty good at thinking on his feet in a fight, if not when it came to coming up with excuses _after_ that fight. And he was pretty good at reading situations. And he was pretty sure Spectra had something going on, something _big_ , that he didn’t know about.

Because of course it was just his luck if this all went terribly wrong now.

The door slammed shut, and Spectra’s smile grew even wider. “You’re out of your league here,” she taunted. “This isn’t Amity Park. You’re not on your home turf anymore.”

Danny blasted her in the chest with enough force to throw her back into the wall and char her suit. He didn’t have time to worry about how much damage he was going to cause. He couldn’t afford to let her talk. Her words had a way of getting into your head and eating away at your confidence, your spirit, everything, and he definitely couldn’t afford that right now. 

“Yeah, we _are_ pretty far from Amity Park,” Danny agreed as he built another ectoblast in his hands. “So you got any particular reason for coming here?”

Spectra looked at him and smirked, still making no move to dodge his attack. Sure, it might have been a while since they had fought, but did she _really_ think she could avoid it just by phasing at the last second? What if her timing was off? And why wasn’t she fighting back?

“Ninja Kick!”

The ectoblast died as Danny flew sideways and into an empty chair by the wall. He blinked up at the ninja ghost, wondering how the heck the ninja had gotten the jump on him. Okay, so he got that the ghost was a ninja and all, but still. He hadn’t been _that_ preoccupied.

“Ninja Scarf Wrap!”

Seriously. Announcing his attacks? Who did this ghost thing he was, Technus? Danny turned intangible as the red scarf whipped toward him. He couldn’t see the ninja ghost’s face as it came back empty, not even catching on the chair, but Danny would bet he was confused.

Which was weird, because he didn’t know a single ghost who _couldn’t_ go intangible.

“What the juice? How’d that miss you?”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Have you really not been at this that long?” He didn’t wait for an answer, though. Spectra still hadn’t moved—she _had_ to be planning something—and this ninja ghost obviously wasn’t going to be a whole lot more trouble than the Box Ghost—if that—if he didn’t even have a handle on intangibility. He could deal with him later.

“Ninja Punch!”

Danny turned intangible without even bothering to look around, and the ninja ghost sailed through him and into a bookshelf. Yeah, he _definitely_ hadn’t learned how to go intangible yet. “If you were going to replace Bertrand as your lackey,” Danny said to Spectra, “surely you could do better than that guy?” He jabbed his thumb in the direction of his would-be assailant.

“I’m _the Ninja_ ,” complained the ninja ghost as he dug himself out from under the books. “You don’t need to pretend you don’t know that already. And I’m not anybody’s lackey.”

“Fine. You’re the Ninja. Nice to meet you. I’m Phantom. You already know Spectra.” Danny spared him a glance before turning back to Spectra. “What are you doing here?”

“She was here to help, before you started attacking her,” the Ninja said, moving so he stood between Danny and Spectra.

Bertrand would’ve at least attacked him by now—with something that _wasn’t_ so easily dodged—and taken this out of the school if he was going to buy time for Spectra. He wouldn’t try to shield her. She was obviously the stronger ghost of the two. This Ninja…. Danny wondered if he really knew what he was getting into. 

But if Spectra was going to play possum, fine. He would work with that. The Ninja had his sword out now, so Danny vaulted over him on the off chance that the thing was phase proof, slammed into Spectra, turned them both intangible, and didn’t let go until they were outside.

At which point he got jumped by a bright green panther.

So Spectra _hadn’t_ replaced Bertrand.

By the time Danny got loose (with a torn suit where he hadn’t gone intangible quickly enough and a couple wounds Jazz would have to bandage when his parents weren’t looking), Spectra was in her shadow form. She’d gotten quick, dodging his ectoblasts with ease, and she didn’t blink when he tried an ice ray. 

But somehow, even though she hadn’t touched him, her laugh unnerved him.

“You have it all wrong, you know. You think you’re so noble, always helping others, but you’ve already crossed the line you never wanted to cross. You’ve already hurt people.”

Danny swallowed. “That was in the past, and a future that I’ll make sure is never realized. I’ve learned from my mistakes.”

“Have you now? Then why are you imagining enemies where there are none, just so you can have someone to fight?”

“I—what?” He knew he shouldn’t let her talk, but…. What did she mean, that they were completely wrong about suspecting McFist? Sure, Tucker hadn’t confirmed anything yet, but….

“You’re going to destroy everything you mean to protect by yourself,” Spectra whispered.

She was just telling him this to unnerve him. It was lies. Probably. Except…. “No. I’d never do that.” He fired off an ectoblast at her, but it went wide.

“Oh, but you already are.” There was a pause. “It’s no surprise, of course. I wouldn’t expect anything else of someone who can’t even properly define himself, who doesn’t belong anywhere.”

A human among ghosts and a ghost among humans. Neither of them, something in between, some freak of nature, a mutation that was neither properly alive nor dead….

“Ninja Bee Ball!”

The sudden swarm—and subsequent stings, when he didn’t go intangible quickly enough—brought Danny back to reality. When the insects had finally dispersed, he couldn’t see Spectra anymore—whether she’d gone invisible or intangible and was hiding somewhere, he couldn’t tell—but he was pretty sure he’d seen a bright green bee that was likely Bertrand.

The only opponent facing him now was the Ninja.

Which was ridiculous, because if Danny paid him any attention at all, beating him would be no problem. It would’ve made a lot more sense to gang up on him. So why would the others have retreated?

“You gonna tell me what you did with Dr. Spectra, Phantom?”

This really was ridiculous.

“You know she’s not actually a doctor of anything, right?” Okay, so he didn’t know for sure that she hadn’t been one in her past life, but he was pretty sure she didn’t get to claim that title when she was dead and taking advantage of the living.

“Yeah? Is that what they told you when they had you attack her to draw me out?”

Danny frowned. “What are you talking about?” Normally he wouldn’t waste time talking when he could be fighting, at least if it wasn’t witty banter or a horrible pun he just had to make, but something really didn’t line up here.

The Ninja, however, ignored him, instead throwing something else in his direction. “Ninja Tripping Balls!”

Danny, who was already floating a few inches above the ground, looked back at the Ninja in disbelief. “I’m guessing from the name these don’t explode?”

But the Ninja was already moving, running toward him as if he’d anticipated that his attack wouldn’t have much—if any—effect and that it would only be useful as a momentary distraction. And then he did something Danny wasn’t expecting: “Ninja Tengu Fireball!”

The black and red suit blazed, the colours switching places so the fiery red was the predominant colour. The fireball heading straight for Danny was huge; he could already feel its heat from five feet away. He could probably turn intangible, but then the tree behind him would definitely catch fire, and….

Seconds before the fireball would’ve incinerated him (or rather, the tree behind him, unless it was some fancy thing that could burn him despite his intangibility, which Danny wasn’t too keen on risking), he hit it with an ice ray. The wave of heat he felt despite using his ice powers told him how close he’d cut it.

“Ninja Air Fist!”

Somehow, Danny still hadn’t anticipated the next attack, hadn’t figured that the flashy fireball was just another distraction, and the blast of air sent him flying. He hit the flagpole with a bone-rattling crash that bent it out of shape.

“Ninja Throwing Stars!”

Danny threw up a shield, but he wasn’t quite quick enough. The Ninja was _fast_ , and he still hadn’t entirely shaken off everything Spectra had said to him, though Danny had the feeling the Ninja still would’ve gotten him. The ghost might’ve realized most physical attacks weren’t going to work, but the fact that he was still including them could very well mean he was holding back—or that a lot of the things he used _could_ harm a ghost using intangibility. Or maybe he was just better with physical attacks. Whatever the case, the throwing stars bit into Danny’s side—the same side, unfortunately, that Bertrand had managed to maul—and his gloves became stained with ectoplasm as he tried to pull them out without losing his concentration and dropping his shield.

“So the sliding through things definitely isn’t instinctive, huh?” Danny glanced up as his shield failed; the Ninja was above him, perched easily on the slick metal of the flagpole despite the steep angle. “I figured it was just something you could control with your suit. You don’t make much of a phantom, Phantom!”

“Yeah, well, what kind of ninja announces every attack before he makes it?” Danny grumbled, climbing to his feet. The fireball had definitely thrown him for a loop; he hadn’t expected a ghost to be able to manipulate both ice and fire so easily. Air, okay, but he hadn’t expected the opposites to come so naturally. Especially not to a ghost who didn’t really do intangibility. Or ghost rays, judging by the fact he hadn’t shot one yet.

The Ninja held more balls of some sort in his right hand, but he didn’t throw them yet. “What else you got?” he taunted, though Danny saw his eyes focus in on his wounds. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna give up the ghost already?”

Like he hadn’t heard _that_ one before. “Nah,” Danny said, pressing one hand to his side and hoping his quick healing would mean the wound would seal up and stop seeping sooner rather than later. “Not yet.” He paused, tilting his head in consideration. “You’ve got pretty good aim.”

“The best!” Beneath his mask, the Ninja was probably grinning.

“Then hit me again. I betcha can’t.”

And as the Ninja tossed the balls in his hand with a shout of, “Ninja Electro-Balls,” Danny turned invisible and took to the air.

From three feet away, the shock on the Ninja’s face—in his eyes, anyway—was plain, but he was still quick enough to leap from the metal pole before it was covered with arcs of electricity. A few flips and handstands later, he was settled in the open, eyes scanning for any sign of his enemy as he turned in slow circles.

He didn’t have any way of sensing Danny, from the looks of it.

Of course….

Danny frowned. He couldn’t sense Spectra or Bertrand, so chances were they’d retreated far enough that they were out of his range—though why they’d retreated without a proper fight, he still wasn’t sure—but the Ninja was right in front of him, and he had no warning bells going off because of that. No ghost sense, no prickling on the back of his neck, no feeling in his gut. Nothing.

Maybe he didn’t call himself a Ninja just because of his suit. 

Maybe he really was good enough not to be detected. Until he announced his attacks, of course. He really can’t have been in that many fights if he hadn’t learned. Granted, Technus still hadn’t learned, but Technus’s slang was still stuck in another decade, so there were a lot of things he hadn’t yet learned.

But still. A ghost who could elude his ghost sense—unless this place was just weirder than it was on the surface, which would explain why he’d detected nothing on his first run. Even if Spectra and Bertrand had turned up later, this Ninja was acting like he’d been around for a while. So either this place _was_ as abnormal as Amity Park in its own way or the Ninja could mask his presence from Danny’s ghost sense.

Considering he still wasn’t entirely sure how his ghost sense worked, regardless of what Frostbite had said about his ice powers, he wasn’t going to rule out that possibility.

For all he knew, the Ninja had masked himself the minute he’d realized that’s how Danny had found him the first time—or maybe he hadn’t even sensed the Ninja at all, seeing as Spectra and Bertrand were in town.

Still, since the Ninja was fast and Danny was wounded, his best bet right now was to slow him down long enough to get in a few good hits and weaken him enough to get him into the Fenton Thermos. Ice wouldn’t hold him down for long, not when he could control fire so easily, but it might hold him down for long enough. 

Besides, his suit had gone back to normal after throwing that fireball, so Danny figured it was like his eyes. Sam and Tucker had told him how, when he used his ice powers, his eyes turned a frigid blue, brighter and colder than their usual hue. But if push came to shove, he could always hide that change by simply closing his eyes. This Ninja couldn’t hide the change when he activated his fire powers anywhere near that easily, so it worked to Danny’s advantage.

He got off one quick shot, freezing the Ninja’s right foot to the ground. He dropped his invisibility then, too; he wasn’t used to hiding like that for extended periods of time. Granted, it had been a while since he’d needed to hide like that for extended periods of time. And it had been a while since invisibility had worked so well on other ghosts. Even ghosts who didn’t have some sort of ghost sense, like Skulker, had typically figured out a way to compensate for it—at least if they needed to watch their backs.

“I take it back,” the Ninja called, tugging futilely on his foot. “You make a pretty good phantom.”

Danny shrugged. “It comes with the territory.” He shot a mild ectoblast at the Ninja’s other foot, and he jumped, almost losing his balance. But then he seemed to remember his sword and used _that_ to hack away at the ice.

It wouldn’t have been Danny’s first choice, but at least it told him that the Ninja wasn’t very good at controlling his powers yet. Otherwise, he could’ve melted the ice off in seconds.

The Ninja returned his sword, though Danny couldn’t see where he’d sheathed it. So the ghost had definitely figured out _some_ things. “Look, kid,” the Ninja said, “I don’t really wanna fight you. You cool if we just, y’know, talk for a bit before we get back to fighting?”

It hadn’t exactly been intense fighting, but Danny was still glad for the reprieve. The Ninja ghost seemed honest enough, anyway. And maybe once he cleared the air about Spectra, it would turn out that the Ninja really had been fighting only to protect his haunt. “You don’t have to worry,” Danny said as he settled on the ground himself. “I’m not trying to move in on your territory or anything.”

The Ninja blinked at him. “You’re not gonna just blast me with that laser ray thing now, are you?”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Do you _want_ me to?”

“No! I just…. I just didn’t expect you to agree is all. The robots never do. Not that they really give me a chance to ask.”

“Robots?” Danny repeated. He shook his head. “No, forget I asked. It doesn’t matter. Just…. Spectra. I don’t know what she told you, but she is _not_ who you think she is. She and Bertrand—”

“Who’s Bertrand?”

“Her assistant,” Danny said. “But look, even if you’ve called a truce with her, you’ve gotta call it off. There’s no way she’d honour it anyway, and I did not have to be in that school for very long to see that she’s already probably breaking whatever agreement you guys came up with. Because she _will_ mess things up for you. Don’t think she won’t.”

The Ninja’s eyes widened. “Man, you’ve really got a beef with her.”

“She tried to incinerate my sister. In front of _everyone_.” And he wasn’t about to forgive her for that. Normally he wouldn’t spring it on a complete stranger, but he needed to get through to this Ninja and get through to him now.

The Ninja must’ve wrinkled his nose or something because his mask crinkled. “Shnasty.” There was a pause. “Wait, you’re not exaggerating?”

Danny shook his head slowly. “Don’t trust her, Ninja. Even if you don’t trust me, don’t trust her. And don’t _listen_ to her, because she’ll twist your thoughts. She’s…. I dunno what she’s doing. She’s waiting for something, maybe, since she’s not fighting back. But if the humans here aren’t scared of you, then—”

The Ninja burst out laughing. “Why would they be scared of me?”

Man, the Ninja had it good if nobody in Norrisville hated him. Maybe he was kind of like the Diary King after all. “Because you’re—” Danny broke off as his phone began to ring. “Um, just a sec.” He dug it out of his pocket and flipped it open, grateful the call hadn’t come five minutes earlier since he could actually answer it now. “Tuck? You got something?”

 _“You were right.”_ The words were spoken grudgingly. _“I haven’t had time to do much digging, because the Robo-Apes—which are really cool, by the way; you should’ve told me about them earlier—are watching me a_ lot _. But there are reports of WNDs all over the place, and it looks like they just launched a new one. Or a precursor to one, anyway. Just think of Vlad’s tracking bugs and you’ve got the basic idea.”_

“WNDs?” Danny repeated blankly. “What the heck are those?”

“Weapons of Ninja Destruction.” The answer came from both Tucker and the Ninja simultaneously, but the Ninja continued, “Who _is_ that?”

“Uh…intel?”

“But shouldn’t you already know all about that if McFist sent you in the first place?”

“What?”

_“Danny? You still there?”_

“Yeah, sorry, Tuck, just…. Look, copy everything you can, okay? Jazz is at the library. Meet us there when you get the chance; text me or something if something goes wrong.”

_“Got it.”_

Danny hung up and looked at the Ninja. “Okay, bad news.”

“Yeah, I figured that when you started talking about how to destroy me. Although you really looked like you were trying earlier, so if you’re not going to now, that is a major plus.”

Danny rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. I thought you were working with Spectra to start off. I didn’t realize you were just defending the school or whatever. But this new WND was probably developed because they’ve gotten a good look at all of the FentonWorks weapons.”

“The what?”

“Right, news doesn’t travel as quickly on this side. The Fentons. They…. Let’s just say they invent a lot of stuff, and little of it is good for you or me. Their kids are fine, but Jack and Maddie can be a little…obsessed.”

“Have you met McFist yet?”

“Believe me, Jack Fenton can give him a run for his money.”

The Ninja looked doubtful, but he didn’t protest. “It’ll be fine. I’ll just clear out for a while until I’m needed. No big.”

“Yeah, I just….” Danny bit his lip and looked back at the school. “Watch your back, Ninja.” He paused, then added, slowly, “But if this is all a farce on your part….”

The Ninja held up his hands. “You can blast me then, Phantom. Promise. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a therapist to look in on. Smoke bomb!”

Danny hadn’t noticed the ball in the Ninja’s hand before, but the minute he threw it, Danny recognized it. Coughing and hacking, he flew away from the red smoke. When it cleared, the Ninja was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fight could have gone a few different ways. I’ve a few reasons for choosing this outcome. Among them, both Danny and Randy were holding back to a certain degree. Danny did so chiefly to minimize damage and hopefully avoid drawing his parents’ attention, but also because he still wasn’t entirely sure what the Ninja’s game was and his underestimation of Randy's skill. Randy, well, he thought he was fighting a kid with some crazy good tech on his side. (Randy can acknowledge that some of Viceroy’s stuff is ingenious even if he can usually figure out a way to beat it, and he doesn’t know enough science to have an idea of what Viceroy might not be able to do.) But with both holding back and looking for answers, calling a tentative truce seemed reasonable enough.


	7. Chapter 7

Ghosts.

Hannibal McFist wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to believe it, despite meeting the enthusiasts that were the Fentons, but Booray had definitely seen _something_ in that swamp.

And that something didn’t _really_ sound like something related to the Sorcerer.

They could call him and ask, of course, by why disturb his peace?

On the other hand, since he’d come up with that great new idea to catch the Ninja, maybe they _should_ call the Sorcerer. Then he could gloat. 

If things went horribly wrong, he could always blame Viceroy. He came up with so many bad ideas, after all.

“I’ll send someone to look into it,” McFist repeated as Viceroy handed Booray all the extras he’d been promised in exchange for information. He hoped Viceroy knew a Robo-Ape or two that would be up to the task; he really didn’t want to waste an actual person on something like this.

If it _was_ a ghost, a robot was arguably more likely to detect something anyway.

He just hoped this mess was wrapped up before tomorrow. Marci had planned another one of her dinner parties, and unlike the last one, it was highly unlikely the Ninja himself would show up. They would be prepared, of course. As long as they still put forward a good image, Marci supported him in all his exploits. 

But McFist feared this would be another boring dinner party with more boring conversation and mindless small talk. He’d have to listen to Bash’s whining that he had to sit through it, too, and the sullen glares of the other children (if any others had been dragged out), as if the whole thing had been his idea. And if he didn’t keep smiling, Marci would call him a Grumpy Gabe. He hated upsetting Marci, even over small matters like that.

Booray was hardly out the door before the incessant beeping started. “What is that?” McFist barked.

Viceroy was already over at the nearest computer console, bent over it and typing. “Someone broke into our systems!” he said in disbelief. “And they’re _good_. I should be able to track the trail back to the source, but it just leads me in a loop.” The alarm shut off, and from the look on Viceroy’s face, he hadn’t done it. “It’s like they were never even in here.”

McFist grunted. “I don’t need more ghosts to worry about.”

Viceroy shivered. “Don’t _say_ that.”

McFist rolled his eyes. “Just…find whoever did that. Bribe them or whatever you do to people like that. Make it go away.”

“Sir….”

“I don’t care how you do it!” McFist snapped. “Just do it!”

Viceroy had that look on his face that meant he was going to try to strike a bargain. Sure enough, “Sir, I’ve been working around the clock building the new WND. I need to go back and tune up our mind reader if we’re to get anything concrete out of Booray—about ghosts _or_ the Ninja. And now you want me to drop everything and personally chase down this leak?”

He hated it when Viceroy laid out his arguments—especially when he couldn’t see exactly where he was going with it all, though he had his suspicions. “Isn’t that what I just said?”

“But if I drop everything else right now for this one little thing, we will lose valuable time and—”

“Then do it all!”

“Sir.” Viceroy was getting ready to lay his trap. McFist had no idea how he was going to get out of it. “I am your most dedicated worker. _I_ ’ve never gone on strike. If I’m going to stretch myself so thin now, I’m going to need some time to myself to recover.”

There it was.

“I think an extra week’s holidays would do it.”

“You can have two days.”

“But sir, if I’m not in top condition, your exploits could fail and may end up exposed to the townspeople. We already know they will turn on you without a moment’s notice if your true intentions are revealed. It is better that you don’t overwork me; it simply wouldn’t do to give me any less than an extra week. However, I’m perfectly aware that I’m irreplaceable, so I will consent to being on call, as long as I’m given double the time I work off in return.”

McFist was no longer sure of the exact details of Viceroy’s proposal. “Fine,” he grumbled. He already knew from experience that the longer he argued, the better the final outcome—for Viceroy. He could never seem to win an argument with him. “Just get to work!”

Viceroy’s smile was smug. “Of course, sir.”

Running this company was going to be the death of him. Trying to catch the Ninja was going to be the death of him. But since he knew where the company would be if his brother took over, this was infinitely preferable. His father wouldn’t be rolling in his grave, and he liked being charge. And he’d get the Ninja and the Sorcerer’s reward in return eventually.

“What about my latest great idea?” McFist demanded, causing Viceroy to look up from the computer again. 

“You mean _my_ latest great idea?” he drawled.

McFist scowled. “Just tell me if it’s working!”

“The interface is on your desk,” Viceroy said. “Press the big red button to turn it on, and don’t touch anything else. It will tell us when the target is located.”

“Like that Fenton Finder?” McFist asked, jabbing at the button on the device.

_“Ninja detected,”_ the device chimed. 

“That means the Ninja is in the vicinity,” Viceroy clarified before McFist had time to get his hopes up. “Once he’s bugged—” and going by the smile on Viceroy’s face, he was trying to turn it into a pun because he’d designed the thing to look like an insect “—it will report that the target is located. Then the grid will come up and we’ll be able to track his every movement—even if he _is_ unmasked.”

“And then I can capture him!” McFist grinned. He _loved_ it when his plans worked out so brilliantly.

“If nothing else goes wrong,” Viceroy muttered.

McFist’s grin turned almost immediately to a frown. “What would go wrong?” he snapped. “It’s the best idea I’ve had!”

Viceroy heaved a sigh that spoke of long, long suffering. McFist was already regretting giving him more vacation time. “The bug I’ve sent out is much more durable than the first prototype, but there is still the risk that it will be destroyed—especially if the Ninja finds it. The chances of a miscalculation are infinitely small, but I cannot rule it out when it has happened before.”

He probably meant the Robo-Lizard. McFist remembered it well. They’d almost had the Ninja that time.

Or maybe he meant that Franz Nukid robot. They’d almost had the Ninja that time, too. Or maybe he just meant what had happened when they’d ended up thinking someone else was the Ninja. Ranginald Bagel, even his stepson…..

It was better not to think of all of Viceroy’s failures. “You can’t let that happen!”

“That is why I’d like to deal with the system breach and take time to finish making repairs to our mind reader. This way, we can confirm our finding with that of Booray’s memory of the Ninja. At best, we’ll have confirmation of the Ninja’s identity. At worst, we’ll narrow down our targets. That is, if you’ll allow me to work in peace. Sir.”

One day, he’d figure out how to avoid giving Viceroy the opportunity to be so cheeky. “Just get to work!”

McFist didn’t stalk out of the room quite fast enough to avoid hearing, “That’s what I’m _trying_ to do.”

-|-

“These guys are _good_.” 

Jazz looked up from her library book to see Tucker. Her eyes narrowed. “It takes a lot to impress you.”

Tucker nodded and slid down into the seat opposite her. He leaned forward and tried to keep his voice down, but Jazz could tell from the level of excitement already in it that they wouldn’t be staying here long. “I know! I mean, some of the robot designs have weaknesses so obvious even I could beat them in a heartbeat, but other things are just brilliant. You know those Robo-Apes they’ve got everywhere?”

Jazz nodded, wondering why there was even a small part of her surprised that Danny was right. Of course Tucker would find out more than they; he had skills neither of them had—and enough background knowledge to accurately assess his findings.

It was curious that there seemed to be a clear divide in quality. She may not be sure what other robots Tucker had found designs for, but clearly they’d been designed for combat if he’d talked about how easily they could be defeated once their weaknesses were identified. And she’d been under the impression that Viceroy designed—or at least approved—everything before McFist even laid eyes on it.

“They’ve got data collection skills Skulker would be proud of,” Tucker said, “and some sort of learning chip and artificial intelligence equipment that should’ve had them clean up at a Turing test.”

Jazz’s eyebrows shot up. These guys _were_ good. She’d doubt Tucker’s assessment if she didn’t know him well enough to know that he hadn’t misinterpreted anything. “Let me guess: this isn’t all defensive?”

Tucker snorted. “The company’s not a front,” he said, “but let’s just say there are some unofficial divisions that definitely prove Viceroy’s a grad of MSU.”

Jazz highly doubted it was a state university, but she didn’t bother to ask. “And?”

“You guys come across the Norrisville Ninja yet?”

“Danny has.”

“Yeah. He’s their target. Like I said, some of their weapons designs are laughable, and some of them are just way cooler than anything your parents have come up with.”

Jazz nodded slowly. “I expected as much. From what I can find, the Ninja sounds like Phantom.”

Tucker blinked. “An otherwise ordinary kid leading a secret life as a superhero?”

Jazz rolled her eyes. “A ghost who’s just trying to protect his town.” She turned her book around so Tucker could see it. “There are reports of a ninja dating back to practically the time the town was founded, over eight hundred years ago.”

Tucker gave her a funny look. “There was an actual ninja here eight hundred years ago? Really? Why?”

Truthfully, she’d wondered the same thing, but the reason why didn’t matter now—especially not if he was a relatively peaceful ghost and didn’t perceive the current townspeople as threats to what he was trying to protect. “Never mind that. The reports of monsters—”

“So, freaky, non-humanoid ghosts?”

“—seem to go back as far as the Ninja. I can’t be sure; the records I’m reading now are sketchy, and I’m only looking at something that reports that this has all been going on for centuries. I’m not looking at any actual documentation from that time.”

“Do they have any?” 

“I’m not sure yet. I haven’t had enough time to look. I wanted to start more recently and work my way backwards, but I keep finding references to the Ninja of Norrisville from previous accounts. They’re quite consistent. The Ninja seems to have always been fighting off these monsters.”

“And now robots.”

“But those not for longer than a generation.”

“Yeah.” Tucker fiddled with his glasses for moment. “But, here’s the thing. From what I can tell, McFist Industries didn’t just start targeting the Ninja randomly. I mean, these guys aren’t ghost hunters. And from what I can tell, it didn’t start right after Hannibal McFist took over the company or Viceroy was hired on. Nothing started until they were pretty well established.”

“Once the uncertainty regarding the change in power had passed?”

“And once they’d put out plenty of new products,” Tucker confirmed.

Jazz frowned. “Vlad….” She still hadn’t come up with good reasoning to address her earlier conundrum. She still hadn’t figured out why Vlad wouldn’t have acted when this company was vulnerable. She’d always understood that he’d begun amassing his industry and his fortune after he’d withdrawn, after he’d become half ghost. She’d seen how quickly Danny had learned to control his powers; she doubted Vlad was terribly different, once he’d realized what had happened. Perhaps there was a legitimate business reason Vlad had kept his distance, but Jazz hadn’t found enough evidence to convince her that was the case.

Tucker nodded. “I know. I was thinking that, too. But all I can come up with is some sort of codename. The guy calls himself the Sorcerer. There isn’t really any info on him; he’s really keeping these guys on a need-to-know basis. But he’s got some agreement with them. If they get rid of the Ninja, he’ll give them some sort of reward.”

“And you think this Sorcerer is the reason Vlad never tried anything?”

Tucker shrugged. “I never came across anything else. The timing’s off, though, because as far as I can tell, the Sorcerer didn’t enter the picture until _after_ Vlad’s perfect window of opportunity.”

“Right.” Jazz bit her lip. “Unless he suspected the offer was coming and didn’t want to deal with the Sorcerer directly himself.”

“Maybe. Your guess is as good as mine. But if this Sorcerer guy is powerful enough to spook Vlad, we’ve really gotta watch our step. I don’t know how many eyes he’s got on this place, but it’s probably safe to say it’s a lot.”

Jazz gave him a quizzical look. “I thought you practically idolized McFist Industries.”

Tucker leaned back. “Don’t get me wrong. The McMeatStache? That product was practically _made_ for me. And the Robo-Apes are ingenious. And—” he pulled an envelope out of his bag “—I’ve got signed photographs and dropped off an entire job application package. Working for these guys would still be a great experience. But none of that means I trust these guys as far as I could throw them, and I doubt the Sorcerer does, either.”

“You still want to work for them and aren’t concerned about the fact that you just hacked them?”

“Please. You should know better than to underestimate my skills. Even if they _do_ figure out it was me, well, there’s a chance that they’ll wanna hire me anyway, to fix all the bugs in their systems that let me slip through in the first place. Companies have hired hackers for that reason before. But they can’t go around announcing what I did without some of this coming back on them, which is not what they want when they’re not the company everyone thinks they are. I should be safe.” Tucker shoved the envelope back into his bag. “And if not, then at least it was for Danny. He’ll return the favour at some point. He’s good about that.”

Jazz closed her book and put it to the side with the others to be reshelved. “Let’s wait for Danny on the steps,” she said, “and then fill him in. Mom and Dad cut us loose for the afternoon and won’t be expecting us until supper at the earliest, and I want to get a look at the school myself. It’s where the Ninja has been spotted most frequently, no matter how many times the building is torn down and rebuilt in that same place. I’m starting to think the Ninja’s guarding something there.”

“Something the monster ghosts keep attacking to get?”

Jazz pursed her lips. “Maybe. I just want to take a look around before I draw any more conclusions. Something about this still doesn’t sit right with me, and I can’t figure out what it is.”

-|-

The Phantom kid was good; Randy had to give him that. He knew the Art of Invisibility was part of the Forbidden Knowledge contained within the Nomicon, and while its uses had occurred to him, he’d had enough bad experiences that he wasn’t going to try to learn that until he absolutely had to. 

Because something always went wrong, and he wasn’t sure what he’d do if he ended up invisible and couldn’t become visible. Or if the Ninja Mask became invisible and he lost it. Or if he accidentally turned stuff he touched invisible. At any rate, he could definitely see how it could end badly.

But this kid had it down. 

And Randy still hadn’t figured out how the heck he’d gone through the school wall—and taken Dr. Spectra with him—let alone anything else. The first thing that popped into his mind was teleportation, but he kind of doubted Viceroy had perfected that one. Randy would’ve run into a lot of robots using it in various stages of development before even Viceroy would try it on a real person.

The floating thing was a _lot_ easier to explain.

But…. It all became a lot _harder_ to explain when the kid stopped fighting him and started talking to him. And when he didn’t know what WNDs were—the laser-shooting gloves definitely counted in Randy’s book—and started talking about Randy working with Spectra and defending his territory and….

Seriously. How was _any_ of that supposed to make sense?

And incineration. Of the kid’s sister. Now, the idea of McFist wanting to incinerate the Ninja didn’t faze Randy. But unless Phantom’s sister was a secret heroine, in which case someone wanting to stop her rather permanently would be par for the course…. It was a lot more sickening.

But somehow, Randy couldn’t exactly picture the smiling therapist as a mad scientist type person. (He knew Viceroy and had met Mr. Driscoll that one time he’d sorta half come back to life—or whatever you called a reanimated skeleton—and tried to destroy the world, so Randy figured he knew the type.)

He didn’t doubt Phantom’s sincerity, exactly, but he kinda wondered, if Phantom _had_ been brainwashed at all, if he’d been made to think Spectra was the bad guy to throw Randy off the trail. Heck, maybe Phantom _had_ been brainwashed and _was_ the WND, and he just didn’t know it yet because he hadn’t been triggered or whatever. Like sleeper cells. Those people weren’t just in spy movies, right?

But then he had to wonder why McFist would even bother with all of that, since it would be easier to do what Randy had originally thought: brainwash Phantom into thinking he was the enemy.

Or just make another robot like Franz Nukid and try to catch him off guard. Heck, he’d wonder if Spectra was a robot if it weren’t for the fact that he’d seen where Phantom had blasted her, and she definitely wasn’t made of plastic and metal.

But then none of this made sense when he considered the fact that the Sorcerer wasn’t stanking people right now. Well, it made even _less_ sense, because it hadn’t made sense to begin with. But truthfully, Randy wasn’t even sure any of it was connected.

And thinking about everything at once made his head hurt.

“Oh, there you are, Mr. Cunningham.”

Randy blinked and looked up. It was Dr. Spectra, who had apparently gotten away from Phantom and had someone bandage her up. Her clothes were fine, too, so evidently teachers also followed the unwritten rule of keeping a spare set on hand. To be fair, they looked the same as her old ones, but clothes didn’t repair themselves. At least, clothes that weren’t the Ninja Suit didn’t repair themselves.

Randy was really, _really_ glad being the Ninja didn’t entail him having to learn how to sew. He’d never exactly managed it when they’d had to do it in home ec. He always ended up stitching too widely or too loosely or tangling the thread or stitching everything to something else he hadn’t _wanted_ to stitch it to, and…. It had never gone well.

“Our little session was interrupted,” Spectra purred, placing a hand on his shoulder to guide him towards her office. “We’d best finish.”

“Uh, right….” Phantom’s words danced in his head— _don’t trust her_ —but she hadn’t really given him a good reason not to.

He was the Ninja. He was supposed to know what to do. But he didn’t.

Maybe he wasn’t cut out to be the Ninja after all, no matter what the Nomicon had said the time Howard had dragged them to Ninja Camp. He’d failed at that, after all. Maybe he wasn’t as good at this sort of thing—being the type of Ninja the Nomicon recognized as a true Ninja—as he’d thought.

Maybe he was still a failure.

“Now,” Spectra said when they were back in her office, “where were we?” 

He couldn’t remember, so he stayed silent.

“Ah, yes,” Spectra said, looking down at a pad of paper Randy didn’t remember her writing on. “Your friendship with Howard Weinerman.” She flipped a page, consulting more notes Randy couldn’t remember her taking, before looking back up at him. “You do realize, of course, that for friendships to last, they must be reciprocated?”

Randy stared at her blankly, not having a clue what she was talking about. “Re-reciprocated?” he repeated.

“A friendship that’s taken for granted won’t last,” Spectra said simply. Her voice was gentle, but the look in her eye…. Maybe it was from hitting the bookshelf earlier, but she looked _hungry_. Vindictive, maybe. Eager.

Or maybe he’d lost his touch and was playing right into McFist’s hands. Or whoever set this up. He wasn’t sure anymore.

“I-I don’t….”

“Mr. Cunningham.” Her tone was so _understanding_. “People grow apart. It’s part of growing up.”

“But….” Randy shook his head, trying to clear it. “Howard and I are best buds.”

“You once were, but you won’t be forever. You do realize that, don’t you? The signs are there; I can see them myself, plain as day. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. It’s unmistakeable. One of you picked up a new hobby, perhaps. Something that takes up much of your time. You start putting off meeting up, showing up late or skipping out altogether. Perhaps Howard has begun to make other, more reliable friends. Perhaps he is already beginning to move on, leaving you behind.”

_Friendship is a weight the Ninja cannot carry._

And Spectra wasn’t wrong; hadn’t Howard already become fast friends with Accordion Dave, Pradeep, and Bucky? Hadn’t he already taken the steps to replace Randy, since Randy was no longer there for him?

Since Randy had become the Ninja and no longer _could_ be there for him?

_That’s not true. It isn’t. We_ are _best buds. Me being the Ninja doesn’t change that. I won’t let it._ But Randy couldn’t quite convince himself, in the wake of Spectra’s words.

The Nomicon had already warned him, after all.

Aside from that, it had never really been wrong. He’d _thought_ it had been wrong, but it had always turned out that he’d been misinterpreting what it had been trying to tell him. It had never been _outright_ wrong. 

_Friendship is a weight…._

“I….” Why wouldn’t his voice even work? He wanted to deny it. 

But he couldn’t.

Spectra leaned across the desk and put a hand on his arm. “Sometimes, it’s best to let people go. For their own sake.”

_...the Ninja cannot carry._

“B-but….”

“Don’t tell me you’re such a callous, selfish person that you would ruin Howard’s life just for your own benefit?”

Randy shook his head mutely, horrified by that very idea. 

Spectra smiled. “I thought not.”

He’d been destroying Howard’s life by trying to hold on to a friendship that had been doomed since he’d received the Ninja Mask. Every single time Howard hung out with him, Randy put him in danger—it always seemed to happen that way, anyway—and Howard had nearly been killed more than once and targeted especially because he knew Randy’s true identity. Friendship was a weight the Ninja could not carry, because the Ninja’s job was to protect people, and having friends just put them in danger.

He was more an enemy to Howard than anything else, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He was poisonous, deadly. They laughed now, but what if there came a time when they _couldn’t_ laugh it off, when Randy was the last one standing and Howard….

What kind of friend would he be, if he was responsible for Howard’s death?

Howard was much better off without him.

That would explain earlier, at least. Howard had realized it, too.

“I…I never wanted….”

“Of course you didn’t.” Spectra had moved so that she was standing by him, and she helped him to his feet. Randy stumbled along numbly as she escorted him to the door. “But breaking things off now is for the best, before they get worse and it gets harder.”

_And more dangerous_.

“Y-yeah,” Randy agreed. “I…. I get it.”

But he hated it, hated himself for not having done it sooner, for having to do it now. He hated that this was what being the Ninja meant. He hated that something so awesome could have become such a burden that it ultimately sank the best friendship he’d ever had. It wasn’t fair. He’d rather someone _else_ was the Ninja, and he and Howard could just be the Ninja’s number one fans, the way things were _supposed_ to be. He’d rather be a happy, oblivious kid as scared of the monsters and as ignorant of the stanking as everyone else.

But he wasn’t.

He was the Ninja.

And friendship was a weight the Ninja could not carry.

He hated his life.


	8. Chapter 8

Hannibal McFist looked like he was regretting asking them to tell him more about ghosts.

Jack was oblivious, of course, happily babbling on about his favourite subject. Maddie suppressed a smile; it wouldn’t do to let McFist know she found any of this so amusing. They were supposed to be exchanging some more information—veiled negotiating, essentially, without any guarantee of a deal at this stage.

Viceroy was absent this afternoon, which was unfortunate because he seemed to understand their weaponry much better than McFist. The poor man clearly hadn’t expected such a long, detailed answer. She jumped in smoothly, saying, “There are different types of ghosts, and different strengths within each type. Amity Park is a hotspot for ecto-energy—think of it as background radiation—and the ghosts use this to their advantage. It enhances their ability to corporeally manifest.”

McFist stared at her for a moment. “So….” He frowned. “This idea that you can touch a ghost—”

“It’s perfectly possible, under the right circumstances. Typically, only strong ghosts can be physically touched but, given their strength, we’ve designed some of our weapons to target them specifically.”

“The Portable Fenton Ghost Peeler peels ghosts apart atom by atom!” Jack interjected. 

“We’ve also designed net guns for capture—we’ve coated it so ghosts are unable to phase through the netting—and have a variety of tools which hit the ghost with a similar ray to that of their own ghost ray. You’ll remember the ectogun from yesterday, but I have adapted the technology to be lighter and subtler, hiding a blaster within a lipstick tube. It would be relatively straightforward to develop other suitable casings.”

From the look on his face, McFist still wasn’t entirely following. “So, if I had, say, an ordinary rope—that wouldn’t hold a ghost?”

“Not unless you treated it with one of our phase-proof products. An ordinary rope will only hold a ghost for as long as that ghost wishes to be held; otherwise, the ghost can shift its tangibility and simply phase through the rope as if it weren’t there at all.”

“So it would only work if you caught the ghost off guard.”

“For initial capture, yes, but it won’t do anything to contain the ghost. And it may not do anything at all if the ghost isn’t physically manifested in the first place. Appearance is one thing; solid form is quite another.”

“And when it does appear,” Jack put in, “it’s nothing to get it with the Fenton Weasel! And there’s also the Fenton Thermos, if you want to capture a lot of ghosts without questioning them, or the Fenton Ghost Gloves if you’re strong enough to grab them and hold on. If your ghost is already possessing someone, and that person doesn’t know how or is too weak to throw off overshadowing ghosts, we’ve got the Fenton Xtractor and the Fenton Ghost Catcher!”

“The Ghost Catcher works well for separating ghostly energies from any object,” Maddie added. “It is not limited to a living vessel. And we’ve found the Fenton Foamer to be useful when it comes to dispelling ghosts from a wide area.” Remembering the ghosts identified by the Fenton Finder the day before—and knowing, if it was still detecting ecto-contamination in Danny, that meant there were two ghosts—she added, “A town with as long a history as Norrisville is not without its own ghosts. Perhaps you’d have a better idea of the potential of our inventions if we take you on a proper hunt?”

Jack beamed at her. “Great idea, Mads! I’ll start the Fenton Family Ghost Assault Vehicle!”

Jack lost no time in bounding from the room, but it would be easy enough to call him back if it came to that. Maddie looked to McFist. “If you’re agreeable?”

“Well, I, uh….” McFist shifted in his seat. “This is really more Viceroy’s thing. I’m more of a watch from the side kind of guy.”

Maddie smiled. “You needn’t worry about the danger. Jack and I are renowned within our field, and we’ve plenty of practice when it comes to dealing with ghosts. We can keep you safe.”

McFist didn’t look like he entirely believed her. “There are stories,” he acknowledged at length, “about the swamp. I can arrange for a fanboat.”

“That may not be necessary. Unless the ghost in question is bound to the swamp, or something within the swamp, it will be able to leave its territory. And with no idea what type of ghost we’re liable to be dealing with, it’s best we assume it _can_ roam freely. We’ll track the ghost to where it stands now, if it’s currently manifested in the Real World.”

McFist frowned. “The real world?” he echoed.

“Most ghosts exist in the Ghost Zone and merely pass through to our world, our dimension, when a portal opens. There are some ghosts with the ability to open those portals themselves, in which case there are more likely to be stories about them because they appear more frequently. But ghosts who spend little time in the Ghost Zone must derive their energy from something else, feeding upon something in this world to sustain them.”

“And if they don’t?”

“They weaken. If they’re foolish, they’ll lose their form and, in time, their cohesion. And then we needn’t worry about them again.”

McFist grunted. “Let me make the necessary arrangements. “

“That’s perfectly understandable.” It was; he was the head of the company and this excursion was anything but planned. They should be thankful he was willing to take the time to humour them. She wasn’t entirely sure they’d managed to convince him of the existence of ghosts, even now. “I’ll inform Jack and we’ll wait for you in the lobby.”

-|-

“You have terrible ideas, Jazz,” Danny muttered as they trudged toward the school. They all wore a single Fenton Phone now, since between Jazz and Tucker they’d found enough and had a couple extras in the Spectre Speeder in case any of these ones got fried, but still. “I already told you Spectra was here.”

“But she can’t have been here long,” Jazz countered, “if you never noticed her when we first arrived.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t notice the Ninja, either.”

“So maybe he’s got a portal somewhere,” Tucker suggested.

Danny shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think he can just somehow avoid detection. He’s a Ninja, after all. And there would be a _lot_ more ghosts if there was a portal around somewhere.”

“But the monsters—”

“I know, I know, but I haven’t seen any yet, so we’re just guessing. But we already know Spectra’s a leech. She might’ve gotten the idea for her mosquito thing from something that’s going on here.”

Tucker shuddered. “Don’t remind me of that time, please.”

Jazz scowled. “You can talk. I was lucky if I could manifest my head when I was stuck in that jar.”

“I am not thinking about that time,” Tucker chanted. “I am not—”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Danny said hastily. “But you guys know what I mean. And it’s not like Spectra doesn’t know each of us on sight. This is a bad idea.”

“You said Spectra chose to retreat instead of fight,” Jazz reminded him.

Danny touched his side. Jazz had bandaged it less than fifteen minutes ago; it wasn’t like her to be so willing to turn around and walk into the enemy’s lair. It wasn’t like they had a reason to.

But gathering intelligence was a good enough reason for Jazz. She hated going into things blind. Danny didn’t really think they were blind—now that he knew he didn’t need to attack the Ninja, it shouldn’t be that hard to get him to talk again—but Sam wasn’t here to make Jazz listen to her. And Jazz didn’t trust Danny’s or Tucker’s judgement when it came to _that_.

But she did know Spectra wasn’t one for flashy attacks during school hours, not until she was ready—and if she was retreating, she wasn’t ready. Bertrand helped to protect her, to serve as a distraction and to gather information on all the kids while doing that, and Jazz most likely figured the Ninja would turn up again if Bertrand became a threat. 

When Danny had pointed out that this wasn’t what had happened half an hour ago when Bertrand had jumped him, Jazz had given him a look and had reminded him that he’d been attacking the Ninja before that, so the Ninja wouldn’t have had any need to rush to aid his enemy. Danny had stopped trying to argue in his favour at that point.

“I should’ve stayed in ghost mode,” Danny muttered.

Jazz overheard him. “You need to rest.”

“Which is why we’re walking back into the lion’s den, right?”

“Would you feel better if I went back and got the Fenton Peeler?”

Danny pulled a face. “We don’t even know if that one works.”

“The first one did. There’s no reason the second one should be any different. Dad built both of them.” Jazz stopped and rounded on him. “What’s really on your mind, Danny?”

“Nothing!”

Tucker snorted. “Dude, even _I_ know something’s up. If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll take Sam’s place and hit you for not telling us sooner.”

Danny scowled. “It’s nothi—ow! Tucker!”

“What? Sam does it to us all the time.”

Danny rubbed his arm. “That doesn’t make it an invitation for you to punch me.” He really didn’t feel like talking about everything right now. He scrubbed at his face. “It’s just…. I can’t detect the Ninja with my ghost sense. How are you not seeing problems with that?”

“We’ll figure that out,” Jazz said. “I want to talk to him myself.”

“Jazz, you really don’t need to psychoanalyze every ghost you come across.”

“It’s not that,” she said softly. “Something about all of this doesn’t sit right with me, either. I just think we’ll have better luck figuring everything out once we find out some more concrete information.”

“But Spectra tried to…to _kill_ you.”

Jazz set her jaw. “And Mom and Dad have tried to capture you and rip you apart molecule by molecule. We look out for each other, Danny. Now let’s look around so we can look out for these people, too, and help out the Ninja.”

“This is still a stupid idea,” muttered Danny.

“Don’t worry; I packed a can of _Foley, by Tucker Foley_ , in case of an emergency. You guys wanna spray down now, just in case?”

Danny grimaced. “And have you smelling like a sweaty cookie? Worse yet, having _me_ smelling like a sweaty cookie?”

“It combines with _your_ natural odour to create a sweet, manly scent,” Tucker reminded him. “You won’t smell the same as me.”

Danny wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, I’ll still pass.”

“I’m not even going to ask,” Jazz murmured, striding ahead. “Come on, guys. I want to spend the rest of the afternoon looking around.”

“Wait.” Tucker stopped in his tracks. “Lunch is going to be over by the time we get there, isn’t it?”

“What, you didn’t get free samples on your tour to tide you over?”

Tucker pulled a face but didn’t deny it. “I still don’t want to skip lunch. Skipping meals isn’t good for you.”

Jazz sighed and began rooting through her bag. “We ate already. Either go somewhere on your own and catch up with us later or make do with this.”

Tucker caught the package she threw at him. “An energy bar?” He didn’t sound thrilled. “Don’t you have any _real_ food in there?”

Danny smirked. “I think I remember seeing a fruit stand somewhere around here.”

“Energy bar it is,” Tucker said, tearing it open. He took a big bite and the grimace on his face cleared up. “Hey, this isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

“I don’t buy the ones that taste like sawdust. If the meal Mom makes has a suspicious glow to it and I don’t have time to make myself a proper meal, I need something to get me through. And you’ve probably looked in our fridge at home often enough that you know it’s not safe to trust fresh produce.”

“Good point. But I still want something decent after this.”

Jazz waved a hand in acknowledgement, and Danny dropped back to fall in step with Tucker. “How easy do you think it would be to build something to detect ghosts I can’t detect with my ghost sense?” he asked.

Tucker shrugged. “Depends on if your parents’ tech can find them. If it can, then no problem. If it can’t, it might take a while.”

“I kinda doubt the Ninja would be thrilled about the idea of testing ghost hunting weapons with us.”

“If he’s a nice ghost, he might not mind if it’s just something like the Fenton Finder. You know, something that doesn’t actually destroy you.”

“Gee, thanks, I’ll have to remember to clarify that.”

Tucker snorted. “Look, there can’t be that many ghosts that can’t be detected by your ghost sense, right? And if there was anyone really bad, they probably would’ve already tried to take over Amity Park. The whole stable portal thing seems to be a real draw, maybe ‘cause it guarantees them a point of access between the Ghost Zone and the Real World if they can’t create their own portals. But I’ll take some readings on my PDA, just in case the Ninja shows again.”

“I told him to keep his head down,” Danny said, “and warned him about Spectra. If he’s smart, we won’t run into him.”

“Yeah, but think about it. Even if he hasn’t realized you’re the halfa—well, _a_ halfa—he’d still be curious about three strange kids poking around. Jazz wants to ask him some questions anyway. We’ll try to steer clear of Spectra, but if he figures out we’re looking for him, he might just show himself.”

“How much do you wanna bet Jazz heads to the school library first?”

Tucker snickered. “Definitely not taking that one. But if we’re splitting up, I call the cafeteria in case of leftovers.”

“You don’t like cafeteria food in the first place.”

“They might have a better cook than we do.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “It’s cafeteria food.”

“A guy can dream, can’t he?”

“Sure. Doesn’t mean anything’ll come of it, though.” Danny thought for a moment. “I’m gonna see if I can find any of the kids I saw before and talk to them. Even if they haven’t been there as long as the cafeteria staff, they’re more likely to know something.”

“Okay, barring me and Sam and Jazz—and you, obviously—that doesn’t hold true of Phantom.”

“Yeah, well, except for Valerie, the kids at school are less likely to think I’m trying to destroy anything. They know marginally more about the real me.”

“Paulina still has a shrine dedicated to you in her locker.”

“I said _marginally_.”

Tucker smirked before his face grew serious again. “Look, Sam’s not here to beat some sense into you, so just watch your back, okay? Spectra knows you’re here. She’s probably expecting Jazz, too. But she won’t be expecting me. So if you need someone to come in and save you, I’m your man.” Then he grinned again. “And if that doesn’t work, I’ll keep your computer!”

“How touching,” Danny said dryly. But he was glad Tuck was here. Because then, even if he _was_ doing something stupid like he was now, he wasn’t doing it alone—or with just Jazz, who nagged him as much as she supported him. It was good to have a friend along.

-|-

The Nomicon was flashing at him again. Randy had a feeling he knew what it wanted to say. _Friendship is a weight the Ninja cannot carry._ Well, maybe he didn’t _want_ to be the Ninja any longer. The Sorcerer wasn’t even stanking people anymore, and McFist would give up sending robots if he never showed. He was no longer needed.

No longer needed….

Randy froze by his locker. _When the Ninja is no longer needed, the Ninja shall lay down his sword._

Maybe he had a choice.

Maybe, if he gave up being the Ninja, he could still be friends with Howard. Spectra hadn’t made it seem like that was an option, but she didn’t know he was the Ninja. If he didn’t have to Ninja out all the time, then maybe it wasn’t too late to repair his friendship.

Randy glanced around the hallway; with the other students back in class, it was empty. Kids who had spares hung around elsewhere, and it didn’t look like anyone was out on a washroom pass right now, so he was in the clear. He pulled the Ninja Mask out of his pocket and looked at it. 

He’d done a lot of good as the Ninja. He’d had a lot of fun as the Ninja. But if the Sorcerer had stopped stanking people….

If the Sorcerer was no longer a threat, then it was over. McFist…. He knew McFist was working for the Sorcerer. He wasn’t sure how their connection had been set up, but chances were good it was sufficient for McFist to realize the Sorcerer was out of the game. And McFist probably wanted a prize more substantial than the satisfaction of catching the Ninja to bother continuing.

He’d been unwanted before, but now the time had come when he wasn’t needed. 

Randy took a breath, looked at the Ninja Mask one more time, and then headed to the washroom. He tossed the Ninja Mask in the garbage—giving it up steeled his conviction; if he had to choose, he was going to choose his friendship with Howard, because when all of this was over he wouldn’t remember being the Ninja anyway—and then locked himself in the last stall on the left.

Somehow, that seemed only fitting.

“It’s time, isn’t it?” Randy asked quietly as he pulled the Nomicon out so it sat unopened on his lap. The red light cast shadows on the stall. “It’s time to lay down my sword, so it’s time for me to mind wipe myself and forget all of this, isn’t it?”

The red glow pulsed in response.

“It’s okay. I’m ready.” Randy took a deep breath, and then he opened the Nomicon.

When he stopped falling, Randy blinked and looked at the words in front of him. No familiar hallway of doors bearing the names of the different lessons. No dragon or Ninja or landscape. Just six words: **THE TAINTED SPIRIT POISONS THE SPIRIT**. It was the same thing as last time. There were more arrows, though, pointing to the first ‘spirit’. ‘Poisons’ was underlined five times, and the second ‘spirit’ was encased in a spiky circle.

It was absolutely no clearer than last time.

Although…. “ _Is_ this about my friendship with Howard?” Randy asked uncertainly. Since the Nomicon wasn’t telling him to mind wipe himself, he was second guessing his decision to toss the mask. But without the Sorcerer…. “You’re…you’re not agreeing with Spectra, are you? That just being around me is bad for him? You’re not gonna tell me I have to give up being friends with Howard again, are you? I don’t wanna do that, Nomicon. I know I should, but…. We’ve been best buds since forever, and….” Randy shook his head. “The Sorcerer’s not stanking people. I get it, Nomicon. I’m not needed any longer.”

The words in front of him flashed red and burned up. Randy reached forward to catch some of the ash, overbalanced, and fell.

He landed with a thump that knocked the wind out of him. He was on the top of a plateau, and as he looked up, a scroll unrolled. He saw himself in Spectra’s office, Phantom’s subsequent appearance, and—though he had no idea how the Nomicon could do this—what had happened after he’d left.

Frankly, Phantom’s words still made no sense to him. Sure, Amity Park was obviously his hometown and where he’d run into Spectra before, but…. It was weird. She didn’t seem at all surprised by what he could do, which didn’t exactly make sense if all the fancy stuff was due to whatever Viceroy had fit him with. 

Even if he still wasn’t completely sure anymore that it _was_ all because of Viceroy.

It pretty much had to be, though, unless Amity Park had some evil genius scientist person of its own, and what were the chances of that?

The scene before him shifted, picking up when Phantom was outside. He and Spectra both hit the ground hard. She took advantage of the impact to get free, which told him something else: she was tough, and this wasn’t her first fight. She rolled away, and—

Randy blinked. He’d seen panthers before (he would not forget Shawn from the swamp) but they had not been some sort of bright, acid green that had no hope of blending into anything. The panther—which seemed to have come out of nowhere—attacked Phantom.

That at least explained how he’d gotten wounded before Randy had shown up. But…. Phantom’s wounds here were fresh, and they weren’t normal, either. Randy hadn’t been paying a lot of attention at the time, but what dripped from Phantom’s wounds wasn’t blood; it was the same lurid colour as the panther. Of course, that meant it wasn’t oil, either, so Phantom definitely wasn’t a well-made robot. (Randy would’ve happily been wrong in his earlier assessment since it would’ve made things so much easier.)

This was making even less sense than before.

Of course, Randy had hardly concluded that before the shadow showed up.

He’d seen stank in a _lot_ of different forms. He’d seen what someone possessed looked like. He’d had more than one close encounter with the Land of Shadows. This was _still_ entirely unfamiliar.

Phantom’s attacks missed—even the ones that looked, to Randy’s eye, like they should’ve made contact. It didn’t take a genius to realize that he was losing ground before the shadow (which had formed the outline of a woman, with red eyes and purple lips) even attacked.

It was a sign of how long he’d been the Ninja that the idea of a shadow person attacking made perfect sense to him.

But when Shadow started talking, Randy’s certainty that he’d made the right decision to give up being the Ninja shattered.

It was Dr. Spectra’s voice.

He didn’t understand everything she was saying to Phantom, though it obviously made sense to him. But Randy recognized the effect of the words, the way Phantom faltered and hesitated, the attempt at denial even as conviction set in. He’d seen it before. 

Now that his head was clearer, he could recognize that that was what had happened to him.

Geez, no wonder the Nomicon had wanted to talk to him so much. 

Randy’s eyes widened. “The mask! I threw the mask away! I’ve gotta—” But the world around him was already dissolving, and Randy sat up and automatically wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth. The Nomicon fell the floor as he stood up, and he paused only long enough to grab it before fumbling with the lock.

He should’ve hidden the mask, but he’d been thinking that someone had to pick it up—the same someone who had delivered it to him—and that there was no reason to make the man’s life more difficult. But now, Randy was really regretting not stopping long enough to throw some paper towel over it or something. 

He was just being an idiot, though. The Sorcerer wasn’t stanking people, so it’s not like some stanked student would’ve scuttled in here and picked it up. And he hadn’t even been out for very long. Probably. He didn’t have a good sense of time in the Nomicon, but it couldn’t have been that long. He knew roughly how long the events he had watched would’ve taken place in real time, so….

Randy nearly tripped over his own feet as he lurched towards the garbage can, one hand already outstretched to snag the mask before anyone came in here and saw it.

Randy’s heart froze as dread filled his body. He couldn’t see the mask.

That didn’t mean anything. It had probably just…slipped below some paper towel. No big. 

Randy practically dove into the garbage can, rooting through the used towels and—ew, that was definitely a used tissue. _Shnasty_. But it had to be in there. It _had_ to be in there. He couldn’t be the Ninja if he didn’t have the Ninja Mask. He wasn’t even half as agile without the suit—okay, that might be a lie, but he didn’t really want to test that theory because he was pretty sure it was the truth—and it would be awfully hard to fight anything without weapons.

But the longer he looked, the clearer the truth became.

The mask was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Randy thought he had the choice of being either Howard's friend or the Ninja, and he thought he had to choose. Unfortunately, he was wrong.


	9. Chapter 9

“What happened to your cast iron stomach?” Danny teased. Jazz had already split off from them, wanting to have as long in the stacks as possible, but he’d opted to wait for Tucker. He wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to poke fun at him.

Tucker grimaced. “I’m telling you, that energy bar had vegetables in it.”

Danny smirked. “So vegetables always defeat your—”

“We’re not talking about this.” Tucker put a hand on his belly. He still looked a little green to Danny’s eye, but he knew Tucker wasn’t going to let that stop him. Besides, there would be other washrooms in this school. They’d come in some side entrance—Jazz had figured they had less chance of being immediately caught that way—and come across a bathroom partway down the hall, so chances were good there were plenty in the school. “Anyway, I found this.” 

Danny raised his eyebrow. “What the heck is that?” He took the cloth from Tucker. At first, he thought it was a toque or a ski mask or something—which was ridiculous, because there wasn’t even snow outside—but then he turned it over and saw the patterning. “This is the Ninja’s mask.”

“Or _a_ ninja mask. Y’know, just some kind of fancy ski mask, like how people capitalize on Phantom’s logo. It was in the garbage. When was the last time you saw a ghost throw something in the garbage?”

“True,” Danny conceded, “and it doesn’t _feel_ right to have belonged to a ghost, but it still feels…. I dunno, funny.” Most ghost possessions were just concentrated ectoplasm shaped via the ghost’s will, an imprint from the moment of death or part of the driving desire that meant they would become a ghost; his parents had drilled that much into him, and as far as he could tell, they weren’t wrong. But this didn’t feel like that, didn’t feel like his suit or Johnny 13’s motorcycle or Ember’s guitar. 

Jazz would have questioned him further, pressing for details he wasn’t sure he could give, but Tucker just nodded. “So maybe not just any fancy mask, either. Gotcha. You might as well hold onto it, then.”

Danny shoved it into his pocket as Tucker’s gut let out a suspicious-sounding gurgle. “You gonna be okay, Tuck?”

Tucker nodded, though he looked like he was trying to convince himself just as much as Danny. “I just need to get some real food into me.”

Danny was sceptical but didn’t push the point. “Just try to blend in when you’re hopping from bathroom to bathroom, okay?” Jazz had gotten surprisingly good at lying, so there was a slim chance that she could convince any teacher she came across that she was new and had a free period. Danny could just turn invisible before he was spotted. Tucker….

Tucker’s stomach grumbled again.

Tucker would probably spend more time in various bathrooms than he would anywhere where he could be spotted by someone he couldn’t easily hoodwink, so maybe it wasn’t an issue after all.

“I’m just gonna, uh….”

Danny made a face. “Yeah. Go ahead, dude.” Tucker hurried off, and Danny turned so he’d walk down the hallway where he’d first met the Ninja.

It didn’t make sense anymore. The Ninja didn’t think Spectra was the bad guy, and he hadn’t even known about Bertrand. He’d been defending her against Danny, thinking she needed his protection. He was basically doing for his town—or at least his old high school—what Danny did for Amity Park.

So who had he been fighting that had destroyed the lockers all the way down one entire wing?

Okay, sure. The whole robot comment made a lot more sense, now that Danny knew McFist and Viceroy were after the Ninja. But however good Tucker thought Viceroy was, Danny was pretty sure he couldn’t make robots like ghosts and give them intangibility and all the rest, and Danny had seen nothing that had hinted at robot destruction.

Well.

Outside, maybe. There was that crunched car, the streetlamp that looked like it had been sliced in half, those sorts of things. But no obvious signs like that inside. Not in that hallway, at least. That had been something smaller—maybe not small, per se, but at least small enough that the destruction wasn’t unintentional. He could understand if the fight had moved, but the particular mess he’d seen had definitely been confined to that one wing.

Besides, Danny had overheard enough conversations involving McFist and his family that he knew they had a son enrolled in this school. Ninja-crazy or not, chances were pretty good he wouldn’t endanger his son—or stepson, whatever he was—on purpose. His parents certainly tried to keep him and Jazz safe while hunting ghosts. He doubted it was different with McFist.

So maybe it was due to these ‘monsters’ the Ninja was always supposed to be fighting, according to what Jazz had found. Only, ghost fights usually left a wider radius of destruction, especially considering it was really easy to take the fight somewhere else; phasing through a wall happened almost as often as being punched straight through one. But maybe it had been a ghost—just a really weak one—and that’s why Danny’s ghost sense had gone off around the Ninja the first time and not the second. Although, now that he knew Spectra was around, it was possible he’d just sensed her—or Bertrand, if he’d been skulking around nearby. But he doubted something like an ectopus could dodge his ghost sense like the Ninja could. It couldn’t be _that_ common an ability.

Not that the Ninja seemed to have a lot of ghostly abilities, considering he’d been around some eight hundred odd years. Fire powers, definitely—he packed a mean fireball punch—and Danny had seen evidence of his ice powers earlier, from the hallway fight. (He was pretty sure it hadn’t come from the opposing ghost, given where the Ninja had been standing. Although the fact that he’d been standing instead of floating was another weird thing.) But though he seemed to get around pretty well, Danny had never seen him go intangible, and given the surprise on his face when Danny had gone invisible earlier, he rather doubted that was something the Ninja did, either. 

Now, if Danny had seen some sort of evidence that he was a shifter, well…. That would make more sense. He’d never seen Amorpho throw an ectoblast at him. But by that same consequence, he could turn invisible, intangible, and fly. The really basic ghost stuff. What kind of ghost mastered more technical abilities before figuring out something useful in fights like intangibility, especially when he’d been around for so long?

It had taken Danny longer to figure out how to _stop_ being intangible than how to _be_ intangible.

And these other ghosts, these monsters. Maybe there had just been one before, the one he’d sensed, but…. Maybe he was just used to Amity Park, with its heightened levels from all the ghost activity, but he’d gotten a lot better at sensing ectoplasmic energy and residual ectoplasm and everything, and he didn’t feel that here. If he tried really, really hard, he could sense…something. He wasn’t really sure what; something old with a vague sense of malevolence that made his skin crawl, but nothing that screamed ghost. 

He really didn’t want to tell this to Jazz or Tucker until he’d looked into it—or at least talked to the Ninja again, in case he knew what it was—but he had an awful feeling that whatever the source of the feeling was, it might just be the reason Vlad had never made a bid for McFist Industries.

Danny shuddered, and his focus on the feeling slipped away. He didn’t try to find it again. He wondered if he would have even been able to find it at all, were Spectra not here to stir up his senses. He’d nearly fallen prey to her tricks again, and he _knew_ he shouldn’t listen to her, but she’d just….

Danny shook his head. It didn’t matter, not right now. Even if Spectra had information, she wouldn’t give it to him—and he wasn’t sure he could trick her into doing so very easily.

The bell rang to signal the brief break before the last period of the day, and Danny froze instinctively, instantly turning invisible. (He really wasn’t sure whether there would be any cameras _inside_ a school this size, but he was pretty sure if there had been one in this wing, it would’ve been destroyed—or at least damaged enough to write off the sudden disappearance of a seemingly ordinary boy.) 

The effect of Spectra’s sessions was evident as soon as the hallways began to fill. The students as a whole moved slower, the unaffected keeping pace with the sullen and despairing, trying fruitlessly to find out what was wrong or to cheer them up. Kids dragged their feet and hung their heads. Girls stared worriedly into mirrors and jocks fingered sports jackets that wouldn’t mean much of anything in a few years’ time. It was depressing, really, the things Spectra had found to prey upon.

But she always found something.

_Just a creepy little boy, with creepy little powers…._

Danny suddenly found himself sprawled on the ground—hadn’t he gone intangible?—when someone collided with him. His invisibility melted away, but no one was paying attention—not even the kid who’d knocked him down. As the boy scrambled to his feet, Danny recognized him. _Randy_.

“Howard!” Randy took off without giving him a backward glance, fighting his way through the students to catch up with his friend—his friend who hadn’t even stopped to wait for him. “Howard! Hold up, bro!”

Danny had kinda thought Spectra would schedule another session with Randy as soon as she could—he’d interrupted their last one, after all—but clearly that hadn’t been the case. Not if he was moving that fast. Everyone else who still had the energy to do that was preoccupied with those who couldn’t, and with Randy chasing after Howard, it amounted to the same thing. 

Danny pushed his way through the crowd to follow them. It got easier as the students dispersed, some stopping at their lockers or ducking into classrooms if they already had their books, but mostly it was easy because Randy was _loud_ in a way that no one else seemed to be. 

Howard was digging through his locker by the time Danny got within earshot. “C’mon,” Randy was saying, “I _need_ your help on this. I was wrong, I was dead wrong, and….” He trailed off, and Danny could see doubt cross his features. “Look, just this one time, okay?”

Howard mumbled something Danny didn’t catch over the slamming of locker doors and the footsteps thundering up and down the staircase next to them.

“I _can’t_!” Randy exclaimed. “I lost the—” He broke off, leaned in closer to Howard and hissed something Danny missed, so he moved closer.

It was an easy enough thing to do. Howard and Randy didn’t have lockers in the main part of the hallway, and the alcove they were in ended in a wndow, so it was all one-way traffic. Besides, kids tended to ignore and avoid Danny on the best of days, and it was no different here; the flow just parted around him. The way everyone was shuffling along, the only glares he got for going against the flow of traffic was from the unaffected kids. And because that meant Spectra hadn’t gotten to them yet, Danny didn’t mind.

“I need your helping finding it,” Randy repeated. “You’ve gotta—” He broke off again, and this time he was staring at Danny. 

Right. Social status invisibility didn’t hold around kids who probably had equal standing. If he’d been smart, he’d have just started flying when the halls were empty. It wasn’t like he didn’t know class would be over soon enough. 

Howard pulled his head out of his locker. “Who’re you?” he asked, staring at Danny with a blank look. “I’ve seen a lotta kids around, but I don’t remember you.” To Randy, he muttered, “He definitely was not in the talent show.”

Danny decided not to ask. “Sorry. I’m Danny. I’m, uh, visiting here. My parents just dropped me off.”

Lies were supposed to be better when they were wrapped in truths, so how come it _still_ sounded awful?

Howard’s locker door closed with a slam. “So?”

Danny shifted on his feet. “So what?”

“So what do you want?”

Danny shrugged. “I dunno.” Howard and Randy just stared at him, so Danny said, “I’ve heard about this Ninja that hangs around. Can you guys tell me about him? He sounds cool.”

Randy had gone white, but Howard looked like he was starting to shake off Spectra’s words. “The Ninja is cool,” Howard acknowledged. “I mean, sometimes he can be a complete shoob, but most of the time he’s cool. No one’s gonna tell you otherwise.”

No one except McFist, and probably him not publicly if the Ninja was this well-received. “And he’s really been around for eight hundred years?”

Howard nodded sagely. “It has been the Ninja’s solemn duty—” he couldn’t hide his smirk as he said the word “—to protect the people of Norrisville from the forces of evil. For, yeah, eight hundred years or something like that.” He glanced at Randy.

“Definitely thirteenth century,” Randy managed, looking like the last thing he wanted to do was discuss the Ninja with a stranger. He tugged on Howard’s arm. “But we kinda _really_ gotta go, so you mind if we finish this later?” He said _later_ like he meant _never_.

Danny pretended he hadn’t noticed that. “Can I catch you after school? By the front doors?” He wanted to know if they actually knew anything _about_ these ‘forces of evil’ the Ninja fought, as opposed to just their existence.

Maybe it was just ghosts after all.

“Sounds great.” Randy’s smile was false. “Gotta run!” He dragged Howard off just as the bell rang to signal the start of the last period, but Danny got the feeling they weren’t going to class.

Mainly because he was pretty sure he and Jazz and Sam and Tucker had worn similar expressions multiple times when dealing with his parents. 

Randy and Howard disappeared around a corner, and Danny wondered if he should just follow them. But in truth, he wasn’t really sure they _did_ know more than they were saying. He figured they did—according to Jazz, their parents should’ve figured it out based solely on his expressions whenever they brought up hunting Phantom—but he was pretty sure the only ghosts around were Spectra and Bertrand. 

Although he never really knew with the Ninja.

No one was around, so Danny pulled out the mask to look at it one more time. Tucker was right—it really didn’t make sense for it to be a ghost’s mask, based on where he’d found it—but Danny wasn’t so sure it was an ordinary mask, either.

Of course, by that same consequence, he had no idea what it was if it weren’t either the Ninja’s mask or just an ordinary mask.

Something landed on the back of his neck and Danny slapped it away irritably, realizing even as he did so that he was just imagining things. This place was definitely weird. He shoved the mask out of sight and took off to his right, down a new hallway, hoping to find a trophy case or something; maybe there was some evidence of the Ninja hidden there. Jazz would still be in the library, and with Tucker out of commission, he would be the only one looking for some sort of clue. Heck, maybe he’d find the Ninja himself, if the ghost decided to show despite Danny’s warning. He wasn’t going to hold his breath on that, but at the same time, he wasn’t going to put it past the Ninja, either. He didn’t know the guy, and he had little reason to trust Danny.

The truth was, both of them were still mostly blind when it came to this.

And if it weren’t for the fact that the Ninja _was_ a ghost, Danny would be tempted to call his parents on Spectra and Bertrand. They’d realized after the two had left town that they’d been ghosts and were less than pleased that they’d gotten so close to the children _twice_. And it would give them a chance to demonstrate their weapons without Danny being in the firing line, which was always a plus.

But it would be hard to hide from his parents’ weapons, even for a Ninja, and Danny didn’t want to bring more trouble down on the ghost than he already had to deal with—although he was _sorely_ tempted to go back and nick the Fenton Finder. If it weren’t for the fact that he still set it off as plain ol’ Danny Fenton and the fact that McFist had seemed interested in it, meaning it would be missed, he definitely would’ve taken it.

But he wasn’t above doing this the old fashioned way, either.

-|-

“How could you _lose_ the mask?” Howard asked, sounding dubious. “I mean, the Nomicon, sure, but the mask?”

“I….” Randy spread his hands, not sure how he could put this in a way that _didn’t_ make him seem like a complete shoob. “I wasn’t thinking. Or I was thinking too much. I don’t know.”

Howard snorted. “Man, I don’t know what _I_ was thinking earlier. You _do_ need me, bro. I leave you on your own for one day and you lose the Ninja Mask.”

“It was Spectra.”

“Spectra took the mask?”

“I dunno. Maybe? But she’s the one who messed with your thinking. And mine. And, like, half the school’s. The Nomicon snapped me out of it. I was….” He didn’t really have a choice; he had to say this. “I was thinking, because the Sorcerer isn’t stanking anyone, that the Ninja wasn’t needed. And Spectra was telling me that the way things were going, it was better if we weren’t friends, but—”

“Cool it, Cunningham. I get your drift. You _finally_ decide to put me before your Ninja-ing, and now everything’s wonked and you need me to fix it.”

Randy frowned. “That’s not exactly how I was going to put it.”

“But it’s the truth, isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah, but that’s not how I was going to put it. You aren’t usually the one getting me out of a mess.”

“Oh, come on. I motivate you. You are _nothing_ without me.” Howard paused. “And, you’ve gotta admit, there are some robots you just need my special touch to destroy.”

“You practically helped Viceroy build that thing! It wouldn’t have been so indestructible if you hadn’t gone and tested stuff for him!”

“Don’t knock it, Cunningham. I got a new pair of McPeepers out of it. And knowing how to destroy the McSatchlé robot was totally all me. I sacrificed my livelihood to help you. Remember?”

Randy rolled his eyes. “You tricked people into doing your dirty work, got promoted, and then took advantage of ordering _me_ around. That job was never going to last. It was a _job_. And _you_.”

Howard smirked, clearly in acknowledgement of the truth, before asking, “So when did you last have the mask, anyway? When you got into Spectra’s office again?”

“No, um, I had it in the, uh, bathroom. I’d thrown it out.” At Howard’s look, Randy cried, “I thought I wasn’t needed any longer! I was going into the Nomicon to mind wipe myself!”

“Geez, you’d think you’d have learned after the first time.”

“I wasn’t thinking straight. And it’s not like the Sorcerer is stanking people. I mean, he coulda totally stanked you if he’d gotten you when you were in that mood earlier.” Randy made a face. “If the Nomicon hadn’t knocked some sense into me, he might’ve been able to get me after a little while longer.”

“A stanked Ninja? Yeah, that’s something Norrisville definitely doesn’t need.”

Randy shook his head. “Wouldn’t have been the Ninja. Just me. Only with no one to stop it if it was.”

“Which is not any better.”

“Yeah, unless….” Randy stopped as a thought occurred to him.

“Unless?”

“Well, that guy who dropped off the suit for me. He’s gotta still be keeping an eye on me. Maybe he saw I was affected like everyone else and, when I threw the mask away, he just…took it. To give to the next Ninja. It would be easy enough for him to go back for the Nomicon once I mind wiped myself. I wouldn’t even know what it was, and it would know better than to open for me if I tried.”

“So, basically, you wonked it up big time and now you’re not gonna be the Ninja any longer.”

“Maybe?”

“Real smooth, Cunningham. Real smooth.”

“It’s not my fault!” Randy winced as the words burst out of his mouth, mostly because of the look Howard was now giving him. “Well, it’s not really,” he said defensively. “It’s…. Look, I already said, it’s Spectra.”

“Uh huh. And Viceroy built her?”

Howard was thinking Spectra was a robot. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time. “No, she’s—”

“Under the Sorcerer’s control.”

It wasn’t a question this time, but Randy shook his head. “No.” Not that he could blame Howard for jumping to that conclusion, either, after what had happened with Booray. “She’s…. I’m not entirely sure what she is. But Phantom’s run into her before. He was only ever trying to fight me because he thought I was working with her.”

“So Viceroy recruited her, not him.”

“Well, maybe, but I don’t know. It’s weird. I don’t quite get his deal; he seems nice enough but I don’t know how he can do half of what he can if he’s _not_ involved with someone like Viceroy. And with her, it’s just wonked. I mean, I’ve heard of hypnotism and suggestion and stuff, but I didn’t think it could carry this far.”

Howard just stared at him. “And?”

“And what? I don’t know what she is or really even why she’s here.” Well, he didn’t know that with Phantom, either, but he was pretty sure Spectra was the major threat. Unless it was the whole ‘the most dangerous enemy often wears the mask of an ally’ thing all over again, but he didn’t want to think about that. He could think about that _after_ he dealt with Spectra. 

“And what are you going to do?”

“What _can_ I do? I don’t have the mask! I need to find it before I can do anything. So you cool to help me look?”

Howard shrugged. “Ask the Nomicon. Maybe it’s got some kinda homing device tracker thing and it’ll glow when you get near it. Or the glow will pulse _faster_ when you get near it and steady when you’re on top of it.”

Randy was doubtful, but he was also willing to try anything. Of course, when he pulled the Nomicon out and Howard agreed to cover him, his luck—which had already run out—didn’t take a turn for the better. The Nomicon refused to even open.

“Maybe it’s because you don’t have the mask.”

Randy scowled as he tried to pry open the cover. “Not helpful.” Besides, from what he could tell, _Bucky_ had gotten the book open once—although that was possibly because there was definitely no way he knew what he’d been looking at and wasn’t in any way a threat. At least, Randy assumed not, because the Nomicon seemed to know better than he who the threats actually were.

“So, see if you can track down that Phantom kid. He might not be able to help you with the mask, but if he’s not gonna fight you like we thought, he can at least spill about Spectra. You don’t have to tell him you’re the Ninja if you just tell him you’re helping the Ninja.”

Randy pulled a face. “She’s definitely bad news. She tried to murder his sister in front of, like, _everyone_. I don’t know what the setup was—there must’ve been something because she doesn’t seem stupid enough to incriminate herself—but I’m just worried now that she might try to pull a stunt like that here, and who knows who her target is?”

“You don’t think you’re over-thinking things, do you? Maybe she’s just here by chance and Phantom’s just here because he’s trying to catch her. For all we know, they have nothing to do with McFist.”

“Yeah, except Phantom’s looking into McFist. And McFist—” Randy broke off, eyes widening. “Oh, man, that kid!”

“You gonna fill me in?”

“Phantom said McFist is cutting some deal with this family. The Fentons. Said the parents are basically crazy inventors but their kids are cool. And that kid was probably one of _their_ kids. I mean, no one who actually lives here needs to ask about the Ninja.”

“So, what, you wanna take Phantom’s word and trust this kid?”

Randy didn’t miss the scepticism in Howard’s voice. “I dunno, but I’ve gotta do something. I can’t go around asking if anyone’s seen a ninja mask, but—”

Howard held up his hand. “I’m just gonna stop you there. As your best and much smarter friend—”

“Hey!”

“—I’m going to veto that idea. I don’t care what Phantom says, that kid could be a spy for McFist and not even realize it. What if he lets something slip? You really don’t want to hand McFist more clues to your identity than you already do.”

“Yeah, but if the Sorcerer isn’t stanking people, what’s it matter if McFist finds out the truth? He’s working with the Sorcerer. If he’s not stanking people—”

“Okay, yeah, but—and don’t think I’m siding with the Nomicon from now on—did the Nomicon actually _tell_ you that you don’t have to worry about it? Because it usually knows stuff before you do. Like, way before you do.” Howard must’ve read Randy’s expression because he snorted. “Whatever. You’re not the Ninja if you don’t have the Ninja Mask. So why don’t we just skip out on last period completely and hit Greg’s Game Hole? Like _normal_ teens?”

Randy made a face and opened his mouth, but Howard cut him off with a long-suffering sigh. “Yeah, I know. Because you still have a duty. Don’t make me laugh, Cunningham.”

“You already are.”

Howard contained himself but still wore a telltale smirk. “So, you got a plan?”

“Nope.”

“Sounds good. Let’s do this. We got ourselves a Ninja Mask to find.” Howard cracked his knuckles, and he and Randy ran through their super secret best bud handshake sequence. Because, despite Randy being the Ninja, they were still the best of friends—and Randy wasn’t going to let that change now.


	10. Chapter 10

Their hacker was good, but Viceroy was better.

Viceroy stretched, cracking his knuckles before allowing himself to relax into his chair in front of the computer in McFist’s office. He’d ended up splitting his time between finding the hacker and fixing up the mind reader, so it had taken him a while, but he’d finally realized they’d been duped by that Tucker Foley kid.

Frankly, Viceroy was impressed. He’d designed their systems himself and hadn’t thought a mere teenager would be able to get past them—certainly not with so much apparent ease. The kid’s work wasn’t messy, either. If Viceroy hadn’t been looking so closely, he would have missed exactly how many files Tucker had accessed.

He was tempted to sit the kid down for a good talking to and then enticing him with a job offer—he obviously wanted one, despite what he’d done—but it was the files he’d accessed that gave Viceroy pause.

He’d manage to stumble upon the less publicized side of McFist Industries.

Well.

It was, Viceroy suspected, less like he’d stumbled upon them and more like he’d rooted around likely files until he found what he was looking for—although there was a very good chance he hadn’t been entirely sure what he’d been looking for in the first place.

But he hadn’t _done_ anything, hadn’t planted a bug or pulled some joke. His sole purpose to hack them had been to gather information—information about them, information he shouldn’t have had any reason to search for. He knew quite a bit about them already, the sort that could be garnered through various internet searches, but nothing he would have found would have given him reason to want to look deeper.

Which meant something else had.

And Viceroy would rather like to know what that something was.

He pulled himself back up to the computer console but alarms started blaring before he could look into it any farther. Grumbling, Viceroy got to his feet. He’d _thought_ he’d fixed the mind reader, but perhaps allowing the Robo-Apes to test it had caused it to malfunction. He’d never designed it to interpret synthetic neural firings, after all. 

But the alarm, Viceroy soon realized, hadn’t been triggered by a malfunctioning mind reader.

It had been triggered by a very successful Ninja Finder. 

Viceroy picked up the tracker that had still been sitting on McFist’s desk, hit a few keys to acknowledge the alarm—he’d turned it to ‘alarm’ for fear he might miss the quieter announcement of success while absorbed in his other work—and found himself staring at a rough grid of Norrisville. He allowed the machine to automatically zoom in, noticing how it centered itself on the high school. There was comfort in that—it meant nothing had gone wrong in the deployment process, and he’d expected the Ninja to be at the school—because, although he did not doubt his skill, McFist often did. 

Viceroy called over Otto to get his update on the mind reader and a smug smile settled on his face when the robot displayed the holographic results. The mind reader appeared to be in perfect working condition. He’d assumed as much when he’d left it half an hour ago, but having the assurance was immensely satisfying. 

McFist carried a second handset version of the tracker, one which was slightly smaller and much simpler in design. McFist _should_ be able to follow up on the Ninja while Viceroy contacted Booray. Booray hadn’t seemed eager to stay around, exactly, but Viceroy had known how to tempt him into not going too far. Booray was nothing if not an opportunist.

And, frankly, Viceroy was confident enough in his ability that he believed the Ninja wouldn’t immediately become aware of the tracking system he’d devised and subsequently destroy it. Consequently, McFist ought to have enough time to work—providing he could devise a way to ditch the Fentons or convince them to come along on the pretence that he was doing something else.

Viceroy was significantly less confident in McFist’s ability to do either of those things, but life wasn’t perfect.

Viceroy phoned McFist and was less than amused when it went through to the answering machine. “Sir,” he said, aware that others might hear his message if McFist wasn’t careful, “check our tracker to see if it’s picked anything up on the test.” The Fentons—at least Madeline Fenton, if not Jack—were aware that he’d been designing a tracker similar to their own. It would not be surprising to them that he was conducting a test. And McFist should know exactly what he meant, what _it_ meant, and hopefully he would be mindful of his surroundings and not shout out that he was going to destroy the Ninja.

Viceroy wasn’t terribly confident in McFist’s ability to restrain himself when it came to that, either, but he needed to get to Booray before he had to stake out the Shack.

He really wasn’t sure what was worse when it came to that, McFist eager to come along at every opportunity so he could eat more crawdads and consequently having them waste a lot of time and money (because Booray was no fool and took advantage of McFist’s ignorance and Viceroy’s inability to correct him) or _listening_ to McFist go on and on about the delicious small lobsters they served. Besides, they weren’t sure when Booray would show up. It was simply the one place Viceroy was certain he’d go back to.

But seeing as he hadn’t given Booray everything earlier when it came to fancy new extras, Viceroy was certain he could coax the trapper back—especially since Viceroy knew the man could be reached through his new McFist Pad.

Viceroy contacted Booray, ordered the nearest pair of Robo-Apes to collect the trapper’s compensation, and settled in to wait. He wasn’t sure who he’d hear from first—whether McFist would call him in a panic or in his excitement or if Booray would show up in the lobby—but he would be ready either way.

And this time, they would finally catch the Ninja.

-|-

“They’re at the school!” Jack crowed as Norrisville High came into view when they screeched around the corner. “We’ll get ‘em before they can harm the kids!”

Maddie glanced back at their passenger. For his part, Hannibal McFist only looked _slightly_ green. She hoped the beeping that had been going off for the last two blocks was merely his phone or some such communication device and _not_ a medical device. “We’ll gear up here,” she said as Jack spun into the parking lot and ran into the cement barrier at the head of the spot he’d taken. She was prepared for the jarring movement, but McFist was jolted forward against his seat harness. “You did say you know how to handle a gun? Our ectoguns are much the same but with significantly less recoil. You do remember from when you fired one before?”

With visible effort, McFist pried his hands from the armrests. “Yes,” he croaked. “Good.”

“It’s best if you silence your phone,” Maddie added when McFist made no further movement, not even to unbuckle his safety harness. “The longer we manage to keep the element of surprise, the better.”

“Phone?” McFist looked at her dumbly for a moment before he collected himself. “Yes. Phone.” He undid his harness and reached into his breast pocket. What he pulled out didn’t look much like a phone, more like a glass soap bar which pulsed green than anything else, but Maddie would have been surprised if he used none of his own inventions. McFist hit a button. The beeping ended, but the pulsing green glow did not. “We should split up,” he said, surprising her. “We can cover more ground. Whoever finds the ghost first can trap it.”

Maddie frowned. There was something in McFist’s voice…. “We can wait a few minutes to allow you to recover yourself—” he must still be in shock; Jack’s driving was known to do that “—but you should remain with one of us. You aren’t familiar enough with our weapons to immediately begin testing them in the field.”

“Then why do you deem them safe enough for the public?” McFist challenged, sounding more like himself as he hopped out of the Assault Vehicle. Jack had already gone around back to begin unloading, and metal clanged against metal as he sorted through the weapons. Maddie moved to join him as McFist continued, “I’m not going to produce anything I can’t use myself.”

“Oh, they’re easy to use. A five year old can handle them!” Jack said enthusiastically.

“A five year old with some practice,” Maddie corrected hastily. She didn’t want McFist to get the wrong idea—or to think that they’d handed their weapons over to their kids without guidance. “Our devices don’t harm humans—you’ll not do much more than cause a bruise or two or find yourself in dire need of a shower—but you need practice to use them properly, just as you do with anything else.”

“Just give me something simple,” McFist insisted. “One of those ectonet thingamajigs.”

A net gun was a clever choice, quite harmless by comparison to some of their inventory, but…. “A ghost of any strength will break through that almost immediately.” And if the ghosts they’d detected were the ones she’d heard of, they’d be quite strong indeed. Certainly nothing that could be kept down by a mere net prior to any weakening.

McFist frowned, but before he could open his mouth to argue further, Jack hefted the Fenton Bazooka onto his shoulder. “I’m going to go ahead,” he said. He tapped his ear. “Got your Fenton Phone, Mads? I can tell you two where the ghosts are once I find them!”

Maddie sighed. She should have known she couldn’t keep Jack down for long. As much as he liked sharing his knowledge of ghost hunting, when it didn’t come to family, he’d take hunting over explaining. “We still aren’t certain of the range on these,” she reminded Jack as she fitted her Fenton Phone. “We’ll be fine within a few blocks, but remember to let me know which direction you’re going if you begin chasing.”

“Got it, baby! You can count on me!”

As Jack bounded off, Maddie turned back to McFist. Reading the expression on his face, she said, “Ordinary walls don’t trap ghosts. We might find them here, but we certainly have no guarantee that they’ll remain here. If Jack takes the Assault Vehicle and chases them to the other end of town, there’s a very good chance we’ll lose contact with him. We’ve encountered some interference on earlier tests. Given the amount of ecto-radiation in Amity Park, our readings might be different here.”

McFist scrunched up his nose. “You haven’t done extensive tests on these, have you?”

It was a flat question, and it told her that he was more observant than he first appeared—just like her dear Jack. But then again, he would have to be to run as large a company as he did. Vlad was certainly sharp. “No,” Maddie agreed softly.

McFist snorted. “So did you come here in hopes of cutting a deal or hunting ghosts?”

Maddie’s smile was wry; she was no longer surprised that they’d been caught out. “Truthfully, both. We would welcome the chance to expand our production and partner on the project with a reliable company such as yours. But Jack and I have been in this business long enough to be able to sniff out a reliable ghost story.”

McFist gave her an incredulous look. “You’re not really here because of that curse story, are you? About that kid and the swamp?”

Maddie raised an eyebrow. “Please, do give us a bit more credibility than that.” She strapped a multi-purpose utility weapon to her belt. “I’m sure you’ve heard about the Norrisville Ninja?”

McFist froze, and she knew immediately that he had. “You’re here…because of the Ninja?”

Maddie nodded in assent. “And to give our children a chance to puzzle it out for themselves. They are more proficient than they will admit to themselves, and they have the same drive as we do to protect innocent people. We wanted to give them the opportunity to acknowledge that drive within themselves.” She paused. “And, if necessary, give them some help. That is what we are going to be doing now.”

McFist stared at her. She imagined he might say many things—a number of those about her dubious parenting, admittedly—but in the end all he said was, “You think your kids came to a school on their vacation?”

Maddie smiled and handed McFist the net gun he’d requested. “Let’s just say I won’t be surprised if they turn up. They are quite clever.”

McFist grunted. “So’s the Ninja.”

Maddie looked at him for a long moment. “You’ve encountered him.”

It wasn’t a question, and McFist wasn’t foolish enough to take it as one. “We’ve got a history,” McFist said shortly. He hesitated, seeming to consider his words, and in the end added, “Ninja’s a troublemaker. I’ve tried to catch him before; haven’t succeeded.”

Maddie laughed before she caught herself. “I’m sorry,” she said, managing to contain her amusement to a grin, “but I would have been highly impressed if you were able to catch him. Ghosts are terribly difficult to contain, and I saw no equipment in your factory that looked like it would help you accomplish that—certainly not successfully.”

“We’ll see if this is different, then.” McFist pointed at the ectoguns. “Give me one of those, too.”

“Are you certain? These can cause minor scorch marks if your aim—”

“My aim’s perfectly fine!” McFist snapped. “And if you see the Ninja, shoot first and ask questions later. He’s a menace, no matter what other people say. If you’ve seen the amount of damage he’s caused this town, you wouldn’t need to think twice about that.”

Maddie’s hand stilled over the box of ectoguns. “The Ninja is viewed as a hero.” McFist grumbled his assent, and she picked up an ectogun. “I’m familiar with the type.” She handed it to him, and he looked surprised but took it nonetheless. “In Amity Park, there is one ghost, Danny Phantom, who sounds much the same as your Ninja. You needn’t worry that Jack or I will be swayed by his story. I daresay we know ghosts better than anyone in this town, and we know never to trust them.”

As Maddie tucked her hair into her hood and fitted her goggles into place—it was best to be prepared while ghost hunting, after all, and the goggles helped her eyes adjust to sudden changes in light—McFist slipped the ectogun into an inner pocket in his suit. He held onto the net gun as if he wasn’t sure if he should keep it in sight, either, despite his eagerness. “My reputation—”

“I understand. I’ll take point; just stay behind me. We don’t have to make it known that you seek the capture the apparent town hero; there are other ghosts on the premises, and every ghost is dangerous.”

McFist gave her a considering look. “I like how you think,” he declared.

Maddie smirked and picked up the Fenton Finder that Jack had forgotten before reaching to close the back door. “Come on; let’s see if we can find those ghosts.”

-|-

Truthfully, Danny wasn’t sure exactly where he was. Sure, there were lockers down one wall and windows at another, with three sets of doors that led outside, but there definitely wasn’t any room in Casper High that had such an elaborate mural set in the flooring—some kind of vibrant mosaic or whatever it was called. Ravens weren’t exactly as colourful as carps, but still. The place had _three_ levels, all accessible by the stairs that jutted out into the room. Danny walked over to the mural and craned his neck upward, looking at the glass ceiling. The room was big and open.

What was this place supposed to be, some kind of ballroom?

It was pretty fancy for an ordinary entrance hall, at any rate.

With something like this in a high school, Danny figured Jazz might be on to something with the whole ‘the Ninja is guarding something’ thing. 

“Why are…we going to…the Eye?”

“We have to start somewhere!”

Danny turned in time to see the doors connecting the far hallway fly open. The kids he’d met earlier—Randy and Howard—tumbled through, Randy running ahead of Howard. The other boy looked annoyed and out of breath, rather like Tucker in the middle of a ghost hunt. Danny wondered what was up. 

Well, maybe that wasn’t quite the right question.

Danny glanced down at the carp’s eye. It looked like a glass ball, raised so that it stood partially above the mural—probably not a smart thing since this place had to be the main lobby, even if it weren’t really where school dances were held instead of the gym like in most schools.

Randy skidded to a halt in front of Danny. “Sorry about earlier,” he gasped. “I was kinda…rude, I guess.”

“No problem.” Danny smiled and held out his hand. “We can start again. Danny Fenton.”

“Randy Cunningham. This is Howard Weinerman.” Randy shook Danny’s hand and nodded at Howard, who gave him a wave and continued panting. “If you’re on vacation or whatever, why did you come to the school?”

“I’ve heard about the Ninja,” Danny answered honestly. “I want to know more about him.”

“McFist holds Ninja tours,” Howard rasped out as he straightened up. “You could’ve gone on one of them. The number of times you actually get to see the Ninja on those is apparently pretty high, and he’s got loads of info on him.”

Norrisville had Ninja tours. Amity Park had ghost tours—or used to, when Tuck was still in business. Geez, these towns were more alike than Danny had first thought. “True,” Danny acknowledged, “but this way is free, and I don’t have the cash on me right now to do something fancy like that.”

Randy smirked. “Yeah, we know the feeling. But why look _here_?”

It was weird, but it seemed Randy was as intent on getting information out of him as he was out of Randy. Danny just shrugged. “From what I hear, the Ninja shows up here a lot. And if he’s saving you guys all the time, you probably know more about him than those tour guides. You would’ve seen him more often.”

Howard and Randy exchanged glances. “Well, you’re in luck,” Howard said. “We’re the Ninja’s number one fans, and we’ve been tracking him even more closely since we hit grade nine. And—” here Howard lowered his voice “—we’ve figured out that he sometimes leaves things behind.”

Randy’s eyes were wide. “Howard….”

Howard ignored him and instead dove for Randy’s bag. “Y’see,” he continued as he began wrestling with Randy, “sometimes the Ninja—” here he gave an almighty yank and pulled something like a textbook from Randy’s grip “—puts some stuff in the care of us students. Temporarily, I mean. We’ve gotta give ‘em back next time we see him. He only lets people he trusts keep them safe for him, though. The ones he considers friends, essentially.”

“That’s _mine_ ,” Randy hissed, making an unsuccessful grab for the book.

“It’s _the Ninja’s_ ,” Howard corrected. He showed it to Danny. It still looked like a textbook, but it was old, thick with a heavy black cover and red inlay. “See this? Definitely the Ninja’s. No one but the Ninja can even open it.” He tugged on the book’s edges, clearly exerting some effort, but the book refused to open, and there was no visible lock.

“I’m the one who’s looking after it!”

Danny glanced at Randy. “Mind if I touch it?” he asked. He could understand the protective possessiveness. He could also understand possessiveness related to any object the town’s hero had touched. He was pretty sure some of the kids at his school had collected pieces of warped metal that he’d hit with ectoblasts or rammed into at one point or another, and there were some remains of Fenton Thermoses he had never found.

Okay, so maybe he didn’t understand that, but he’d definitely seen it.

Randy glared at Howard, but he said, “Go ahead.”

Danny took the book and tugged experimentally on the cover, but the pages didn’t even shift. He turned the book back over and traced the pattern on the front. Randy and Howard were convinced the book belonged to the Ninja, and while a book that didn’t open for ordinary people made sense for something that had come out of the Ghost Zone, this still….

It still didn’t feel right.

But Danny was pretty sure the faint sense of power he got from the book wasn’t just because of what Randy and Howard had told him about it, wasn’t all in his head. 

Besides, it felt somewhat like the mask had.

And, okay, he could understand a ghost leaving a book behind—like he’d left his Fenton Thermos behind—but a mask? A mask that concealed his identity? That didn’t make sense. What ghost would—?

Danny shuddered as cold raced up his spine and the book dropped from suddenly numb fingers—something rather embarrassing, since it had been ages since he’d lost control of his tangibility like that. But still. He knew what that cold feeling was, and he hoped the others hadn’t noticed his ghost sense going off. Really, he did _not_ need a ghost to show up right now. Not in front of these guys. He shifted his feet, scanning what he could without being too obvious about it, but it would amount to nothing if the ghost was invisible.

Randy scooped the book off the floor immediately. “You okay?” he asked warily.

“Yeah,” Danny said immediately. “Fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“I am. Sorry about dropping the book. I…sometimes just drop stuff.” Danny smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m kind of a klutz sometimes. It got so bad at school that I’ve been banned from handling any of the glassware in chem since grade nine.” He paused, let his eyes wander away from them again, and added, “The book is cool, though. Seems really old.”

“Ninja’s old.” From the corner of his eye, Danny could see Howard shrug. “You know that already.” A slight hesitation, then a blunt, “What’s up with you? Seriously. You were looking at us before.”

“Nothing,” Danny insisted. At their disbelieving looks, he relented and explained, “It’s just a feeling I got all of a sudden, that’s all. Like someone’s watching me. It’s probably nothing.”

Randy’s eyebrows shot up and his eyes darted down to the stone at Danny’s feet before looking back at him again. “Yeah,” he agreed, sounding like he didn’t believe what he was saying. “But it’s probably better for us not all to be caught here, so why don’t we head outside?”

The ghost—especially if it was Bertrand, like Danny suspected—would almost certainly follow them outside, but it gave Danny more opportunities to cut and run, so he agreed. 

They only got five steps, however, before the Fenton Phone in Danny’s ear crackled to life. _“We’re seeing two ecto-signatures on the east side.”_

It was his mom’s voice. Since when did _they_ use Fenton Phones? He’d never seen them use those before.

_“Copy that, baby! On my way! We’ll tear those ghosts apart molecule by molecule!”_

“You coming?” Howard asked, looking back at him.

“Yeah, just—” Danny winced as Jack’s enthusiastic voice filled his right ear again. He reached up to fiddle with the volume. He wished they had installed separate channels on these things; he’d have to find a way to suggest that in the future. “Um, I should probably warn you guys. I think my parents are here.” True, they could be on the other side of town—the Fenton Phones had a great range, especially after Tucker had done something to them—but considering _he_ was standing on what he thought was the east side….

“And?”

“And it’s best to keep out of their way.” There was a loud crash. “Which means we need to go _now_.” Another crash, this one louder— _closer_ —than the last. Definitely his dad. Possibly from outside, which just cut down on potential exits. “Preferably by going in the opposite direction.” He pointed behind him, hoping his mother wasn’t coming that way—since that would just be his luck.

Randy frowned. “Don’t they know you’re here?”

Danny gave him a look. “Do your parents know you’re skipping class right now?”

“We could have a spare,” Howard pointed out, but Randy was already sprinting away.

Danny ran to catch up, passing Howard on his way. “Doubt it, with that response.” He nodded in Randy’s direction.

Howard huffed. “This is totally your fault, Cunningham.”

An ectoblast shot past Danny’s ear. _Crud_. He immediately began zigzagging, cursing the fact that he’d let himself get distracted. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten about the ghost.

He couldn’t believe he didn’t have a weapon on him besides a Fenton Thermos when he’d _known_ he might encounter ghosts when he wasn’t by himself. But with Spectra and Bertrand retreating, he’d thought….

He’d thought, if he didn’t go after them, they might leave him alone, too.

That was obviously wishful thinking.

“What the juice was _that_?” Howard squawked. Danny glanced behind him; Howard’s hair was singed.

“Ectoblast,” Danny answered. Since he wasn’t sure the Ninja knew how to use them and he doubted the monsters the Ninja fought could do much in terms of more advanced powers, he wasn’t surprised they were unfamiliar with them. “They pack a good punch. Best to avoid them.”

“Gee, I never would’ve guessed that!” Howard snapped. “What happened, that Phantom kid go nuts or something?”

Danny blinked. When had Howard—? Oh, right. His first fight with the Ninja. The non-fight fight. Howard had been the one with his phone out. “Nah, this won’t be Phantom. Phantom doesn’t attack innocent people. It’ll be someone else.” He still had his money on Bertrand, but since no giant wasps or bright green ninjas had shown up, Bertrand and Spectra were still trying to be more subtle.

While any of Bertrand’s shapes didn’t exactly stand out in Amity Park when they were overrun with ghosts, they’d stick out like a sore thumb here when he and Spectra were playing at being human.

At least, that’s what he figured, assuming the Ninja fought the same ghosts regularly. His classmates definitely noticed when Phantom had a new foe, and he kinda doubted it was really different here.

But if the Ninja wasn’t any different than he was, he’d show up wherever the danger was, no matter who posed it. Randy was already tugging open the door of what looked like a janitor’s closet. Danny skidded to halt outside (narrowly avoiding _another_ ectoblast which scorched the tile floor) and shook his head. “Not a good idea. All that’ll do is trap _us_.”

Howard let out another yelp as an ectoblast hit his feet and dived inside. Randy grabbed Danny’s arm. “We’ve got keys. It’ll be fine!” Before Danny had a chance to argue, Randy had pulled him inside and slammed the door. He’d locked them in before Danny found his voice again.

“Now we’re sitting ducks!” Danny protested. Ordinarily, he’d love to make use of the darkness—they wouldn’t be able to see him slip away—but from what he had seen of this room, it wasn’t _that_ big. It was long, narrow, filled with shelves of sharp-smelling cleaning solution and who knew what else, with potential booby traps in the form of mop buckets and brooms of various sizes if they tried to venture too far back. Randy and Howard would be awfully suspicious if he managed to hide from them in here without making a sound, and for all Danny knew, they were smart enough to put two and two together if they saw Phantom immediately after he’d disappeared.

There was a click and a flashlight flared to life in Danny’s face, momentarily blinding him. Howard mercifully pointed it toward the ceiling, and Danny had a feeling these guys had been in here a _lot_ —which made sense, if Randy had filched those keys. That, or they were _really_ good friends with the janitor and had their own set. “It’ll be fine,” Howard said in a loud whisper. “Just keep your voice down, and they’ll go right by us.”

Judging by the thundering sound of his dad’s footsteps, Danny sincerely doubted that. It sounded like his mom had the Fenton Finder, and they’d zero in on any ghost that wasn’t moving—like him—before chasing after one that was still moving. In theory, that made sense. If a ghost wasn’t moving much, it was doing something—probably not something good—or had found a target or was hatching some sort of plan. Not to mention, a ghost that wasn’t moving was easier to catch up to and sneak up on. 

“Flashlight,” Randy said warningly. He had his ear pressed to the door, which Danny thought rather unnecessary given the amount of noise his dad was making.

The doorknob rattled, and Randy sprang back at the same time Howard shut the flashlight off. “It’s locked.” It was Maddie’s voice. “If you just hold this—”

“I’ll get it, Mads!”

Danny’s eyes widened, and he suddenly realized that if it _had_ been Bertrand out there—which it must have been, even if he didn’t usually stick to being invisible or shooting ectoblasts—then this was his intention all along: to trap him in here when he couldn’t use his powers to escape. By the time Danny was through dealing with his parents, Spectra and Bertrand could have slipped off. Jazz and Tucker had probably figured out what had happened, or at least guessed its possibility, but unless they managed to come up with some sort of distraction….

Danny waited.

The fire alarm didn’t go off.

Instead, there was a deafening bang and the door nearly rattled off its hinges. “I should get it on the next shot,” Jack said.

Danny, Randy, and Howard all scrambled back, tripping over each other and mop pails and whatever else they couldn’t see and winding up on the floor in a tangled heap. The hinges gave way in a screech of metal and the door came down with an almighty crash. The three of them blinked in the light, and Danny saw _three_ figures crowded around the entry—Jack, Maddie, and Mr. McFist. He recognized his parents’ weapons—Fenton Finder, Fenton Bazooka, ectoguns, utility weapons, and both his parents had Fenton Thermoses—but he _didn’t_ recognize the thing McFist held. 

It flashed green so rapidly it was nearly a solid glow.

Maybe it was the way the light caught McFist’s face, painting him a sickly green and casting eerie shadows, but Danny didn’t like it—or his manic expression.

“We did it!” he crowed. “We found the Ninja!”


	11. Chapter 11

Randy’s stomach plummeted.

He didn’t like the way McFist was looking at him.

To be fair, McFist was looking at Howard, too, but that wouldn’t last once he remembered the Ninja had swooped in to rescue Howard more than once. The only one he was ignoring right now was Danny, though Randy supposed that was because he knew Danny wasn’t from Norrisville and therefore couldn’t be the Ninja. The people who were with him had to be Danny’s parents (he’d already forgotten their names), which would be why the kid looked green himself.

But what Randy couldn’t understand was how McFist had _found_ him—especially when he didn’t even have the suit. 

Maybe all those robots he’d sent out yesterday had had a purpose beyond attempted exhaustion. Maybe, when he’d been distracted, one had managed to plant some kind of tracking device on him. Although, considering he’d taken them down pretty easily, Randy couldn’t think of when that would have happened, either. None of the robots had really gotten the jump on him.

Sure, they’d pounded him into the ground, nearly ripped him in half, and practically electrocuted him, but he couldn’t think of them doing anything weird.

“Danny-boy!” cried the mammoth man clad in some kind of orange jumpsuit. One giant hand extended towards Danny, who looked resigned as he grabbed it and allowed his dad to pull him to his feet. “What are you doing in here?”

“Um…hiding?”

Randy winced; the kid was not good at lying—or even really good at telling the truth in a situation like this. He lacked a _lot_ of the necessary finesse and charm to pull it off. Truthfully, Randy didn’t have much of that himself, but he had a _heck_ of a lot more than Danny did right now.

The woman in blue frowned, pushed the hood of her suit back, and rested her goggles on the top of her head. “Sweetie….”

Danny gave a funny sort of shrug. “All I have on me is a thermos.”

A thermos? Like what Phantom had forgotten?

“Oh, honey, you _know_ better than to go out unarmed.”

…There were more people who considered thermoses to be weapons? Or who had weapons made out of thermoses?

Who even came up with that, making a weapon out of a thermos?

Looking at the people in front of him, Randy was pretty sure he had his answer. Inventors or not, the Fentons were a _weird_ family. But at least they didn’t seem to be coming down too hard on Danny right now about being in here. “Um….” Randy got to his feet; Howard followed suit. “You mind if we just, uh—”

McFist was looking at them with narrowed eyes. “You kids are out of class.” He sounded like he was trying to be nice but failed miserably.

“We have a spare,” Howard said bluntly. He jerked his thumb toward Danny. “We ran into him and were going to show him around. No harm, no foul.”

Before Randy could get away, McFist’s hand snaked out and grabbed his wrist. Even though it hadn’t been his mechanical hand, he still had an iron grip. “I’ll just take you to the principal’s office to be sure of that.”

“We haven’t decontaminated them yet!” Danny’s father exclaimed. He produced a gun-like weapon from his pocket that, by all rights, shouldn’t have fit in there. It made a high-pitched whining noise as he primed it.

Danny groaned. “Dad, that stuff takes forever to wash off.”

“We can’t take any chances.” Randy found himself looking down the barrel of the gun. He closed his eyes, and the next second, McFist had let go of his wrist and he was covered in something wet and sticky.

“Aw, it’s in my hair!” Howard whined. 

Randy blinked open gummy eyes and looked over at his friend, seeing him try to scrape a goopy green mess off his head. Howard just managed to flatten some parts of his hair and make others stick up at odd angles as if he’d gelled it. Randy wiped at his own eyes with the underside of his sleeve and only really succeeded in smearing the goo around. At least the stuff didn’t particularly stink (the smell reminded him of a cross between bubble bath and glue) and the bit that had accidentally gone in his mouth just tasted like soap—which wasn’t good but could’ve been much, much worse. He was assuming he hadn’t just been hosed down with something that was really toxic, at any rate. “What is this stuff?”

“Fenton Foam.” Danny didn’t sound amused, but he was also coated in the goop. Only the adults had escaped unscathed. “Come on; we have to get it off before it hardens.”

Howard pulled a face. “What happens when it hardens?”

“It’s like egg whites,” Danny said, “and it’ll take even longer to get out.”

McFist was looking at the three of them with obvious distaste. His mechanical hand twitched, and Randy wondered what he could say to get them out of this. He glanced at Howard, who seemed to be trying to figure out if they could make a break for it. The mess had probably bought them some time—McFist wasn’t likely to try to search his bag when it was covered in this stuff, so he wouldn’t find the Nomicon right away—but unless Randy could come up with some kind of excuse….

This would be easier if he knew how McFist had found him in the first place.

“Besides,” Danny added, turning to address McFist, “you were looking for the Ninja, right? He’s not here. He’s long gone. He went chasing after the ghost who was shooting at us earlier.”

Or maybe Danny _was_ good at lying. Sure, Randy didn’t know why he’d throw Phantom under the bus like that—he might not be a real ghost, but he had to be the one Danny meant since they knew each other—but Randy also wasn’t sure why Phantom had been shooting at them in the first place. Maybe he and Danny weren’t on the best of terms, despite what Phantom had said earlier? But Danny had said it _wasn’t_ Phantom who had been shooting at them—though Randy kinda doubted that, what with the laser-shooting gloves and all—and he wouldn’t defend Phantom if that were the case.

Unless it had been some kind of stealth robot like the Robo-Lizard, just with the laser tech in it, and McFist had been trying to draw out the Ninja? And it just hadn’t worked because Randy didn’t have the mask? It didn’t explain the whole ghost thing, but beyond that….

Danny’s mother—who looked even more alarmed than his father, if that was possible—handed him what looked like a tube of lipstick. (Randy figured if he was going to ask, he’d ask later.) “You should know better than to trap yourself,” she scolded, the worry in her voice clear. 

Danny sighed and shoved the lipstick into his pocket. “Believe me, this wasn’t my idea. Can we go now, Mom? Randy—” a thumb jerked in his direction “—and Howard were starting to actually be my friends.” The unspoken _until you guys showed up and embarrassed me_ was clear. 

Randy might not have known the Fentons for long, exactly, but he was pretty sure it wouldn’t have been an uncalled for barb.

“Then we’ll have to talk to them about ghosts!”

“Jack,” Danny’s mother chided. She turned to face Randy and Howard again. “I’m sorry. I’m Maddie, and this is Jack. I’m sure you already know Mr. McFist. We’ve perhaps gotten off on the wrong foot.”

Howard opened his mouth, but Randy elbowed him into silence. 

Danny groaned. “Look, I’ll show them how to fight later if you want me to, okay? But we really need to get cleaned up before we have to bathe in gasoline or something to get this stuff off.”

Jack brightened. “We can go on a hunt after school!”

“Uh—”

Howard’s protest was cut off by Maddie. “They can join us for dinner, if their parents are agreeable.”

McFist was frowning now. “I don’t think—”

“Nonsense!” Jack burst out. “They’ll be happy to sit and listen to us blather on about ghosts! And then we can go and set up some targets!”

Danny winced, and at first Randy thought it was because of what his parents were suggesting—this obsession with ghosts was weird in itself—but the demeanour of Jack and Maddie changed almost instantly, too. They became more alert and serious; Danny looked almost relieved.

Maddie’s hand flew to her ear, and Randy realized she was wearing one of the same things Danny was. “Jazz,” she said, “what’s your status?”

“Where’s the ghost?” Jack barked out. Randy was pretty sure he didn’t wait for an answer, because he grabbed a machine out of his wife’s hand and took off at a run.

“Danny, can you—?”

A sigh. “I’ve got it covered, Mom.”

“But….” McFist was staring at them. “But the Ninja….”

“Danny said he was chasing the other ghost. We’ll find him!”

“But….” McFist glanced down at whatever new WND controller Viceroy had dreamed up, then looked up at Maddie again. “But you don’t…. The _Ninja_ ….”

“Is as good as caught!” Maddie reached out to snatch McFist’s hand. “We have to hurry.”

Randy watched in disbelief as Danny’s mother dragged McFist off. She must be a _lot_ stronger than she looked. He turned back to Danny, who looked resigned.

“Will water even take this stuff off?” Howard asked as he wiped futilely at the front of his shirt. “It’s like some weird combination of gum and snot.”

“The trick is mixing in the right amount of soap,” Danny said. “My sister and I learned that the hard way.”

“Man, I knew your parents were inventors,” Randy said, rolling the green foam between his fingers as they started down the hallway to find a washroom, “but I never really thought they were like…this. Ghost obsessed or whatever.”

Danny’s steps faltered and he shot Randy a surprised look. “You’ve heard of them?”

“Didn’t you…uh….” Randy trailed off as Howard rapidly shook his head. Right. Danny had never said that to Randy; it was something _Phantom_ had told the _Ninja_. “Um…. Well, they had all those weird things, and they didn’t look like McFist products.”

Danny shrugged. “They’re not. They’re FentonWorks products. Namely, ghost hunting weapons. Which is not something I like to advertise, but you’re caught up in it now, anyway.”

Howard blinked. “Your parents seriously hunt ghosts?”

“Unfortunately.”

“So you’ve _met_ ghosts?”

Danny gave Howard a sidelong look. “Uh, yeah.”

“That is so honkin’ bruce.” Howard grinned.

Danny frowned. “Look, I know ghosts aren’t common in most places, but it’s not like you guys have never seen a ghost.”

“Actually—”

Randy’s eyes widened as he realized what Danny was thinking and he clamped a hand over Howard’s mouth. “Phantom,” he said. “The guy who was fighting the Ninja before. He’s—”

“A ghost. Yeah. Why is this so surprising to you guys? I mean, you’ve got the Ninja and all the monsters he fights.”

Randy let go of Howard and they exchanged glances. “Yeah,” Randy agreed slowly, “but Phantom’s…different.”

“He’s probably stronger than most of the ghosts the Ninja fights,” Danny said, “and he’s not from around here. He followed us from Amity Park. But he’s about the same as the Ninja is here. I mean, he tries to protect Amity Park from all the invading ghosts. He’s just, um, less _well received_ than the Ninja is here.”

Randy kicked the washroom door open with his foot, and Danny went in and hooked his foot on it so the others could get in without touching anything and creating a bigger mess. “So why did Phantom follow you guys here if he stays around to protect your town?” Randy asked.

Danny let the door close behind him. Howard was grabbing a stack of paper towels, and Randy just started turning on taps. He had a feeling they’d need a _lot_ of water, but only the gym had showers and he and Howard would definitely get caught skipping if they went in there. Frankly, he was surprised the only adults they’d run into had been McFist and Danny’s parents.

“The water to soap ratio is about seventy-thirty,” Danny said. “Dish detergent works better, but soap’ll do in a pinch. And Phantom’s not the only one who looks after Amity Park. The Red Huntress is there, too, when my parents aren’t around.”

“So your parents work with Phantom?”

“Are you kidding? He’s a ghost. They’re trying to tear him apart ‘molecule by molecule’.” Danny used air quotes for the last phrase. “The Red Huntress hates his guts, too, just because he’s a ghost. Phantom’s done some bad stuff in the past, but he’s saved the town way more often. Besides, it’s not like people never make mistakes. I’m sure the Ninja’s messed up at some point, too.”

“Oh, yeah,” Howard said enthusiastically. “You can _definitely_ say that again.”

Howard was ignoring his glare, so Randy started scrubbing and was happy when the stuff started to actually disintegrate. Danny had ducked his head in the sink, so Randy shucked off his jacket to try to get the gunk off of that, too. Danny might be out of luck, but he and Howard had those changes of clothes in their lockers that were going to come in really handy right about now. 

Danny must have been used to scrubbing down or something, because he got clean before either Randy or Howard. And even though he looked like he’d gotten thrown in the pool, he didn’t seem to mind being stuck in wet clothes. He didn’t miss the faces Howard was making, though. “Hey, do you guys have another set of clothes here? Gym clothes that don’t stink or something?”

Howard snorted. “Gym clothes _always_ stink, except for like the first five minutes out of the wash.”

“We’ve got spare sets in our lockers,” Randy said. “Clean ones. Why?”

“I can go get them,” Danny offered. “Your lockers are right where I first ran into you, right?”

Randy frowned. “Yeah, but—”

“It’s not a problem.” Danny was already at the door. “I’ll be back by the time you guys finish cleaning up.”

The door banged closed. “But how are you going to get into them?” Randy finished.

Howard shrugged. “He probably thinks we don’t actually lock them. And, anyway, he’s obviously friends with Phantom, and you said he can do that thing where you couldn’t touch him.”

“True.” Randy grabbed a damp piece of paper towel and began rubbing at his shins. “This whole thing just seems sorta wonked, though.”

“C’mon, Cunningham. He seems like a cool kid. I mean, he’s going show us how to hunt ghosts tonight. That’s so bruce!”

“Yeah, but—”

“If you mention the Sorcerer—”

Randy tossed the dirty paper towel in the garbage. “McFist knows who I am, which means the Sorcerer will. And I lost the mask, so I don’t even have a chance to defend myself. It doesn’t matter if Danny shows us how to use his parents’ stuff. Ghost hunting weapons aren’t gonna work against stank.”

“We’ll find the mask,” Howard said. “And don’t sweat it; McFist doesn’t know for sure that you’re the Ninja.”

“Did you see how he was looking at me?”

“He was looking at _all_ of us.”

“But he’s seen you with the Ninja a lot, and it can’t be Danny when he’s not even from here!”

“Cool it, Cunningham. World’s not ending yet.”

“No,” Randy muttered, “that won’t happen until the Sorcerer wakes up and starts stanking people and I can’t stop him.”

“Do you not trust the kid after he helped us get by McFist?” Howard wiped his hair down one more time, but Randy would bet it would still be dripping into his eyes in about two seconds. “I mean, we saw his parents. You _know_ this isn’t a Franz Nukid thing.”

True, it wasn’t, but…. ‘The unknown ally can be more dangerous than the known enemy.’ Randy didn’t doubt the Nomicon on that, either. And it wasn’t that he thought there was something up with Danny. It was just…. Well, he seemed kind of familiar, which was weird, because Randy was pretty sure he’d never met him. He’d never even heard of Amity Park until today.

By all rights, the kid shouldn’t be familiar.

But he was.

Randy groaned. “Do you ever get the feeling we’re missing something obvious?”

“All the time.”

Randy blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, otherwise, it wouldn’t take us so long to figure out some important things, like how to make Heidi’s hot picks.”

“That’s not what I meant!” 

“Then, in your case, figuring out what the Nomicon is trying to tell you.”

Well, at least nothing about this unnerved Howard at all. That was one thing Randy liked about him; with Howard, you knew exactly where you stood. It was so much easier to deal with him than other people. Especially girls. Girls were weird. Like Heidi at lunch, when she’d— “Hey, did you know your sister was quitting? That she wasn’t going to do her show anymore?”

Howard burst out laughing.

Randy waited.

Howard kept laughing.

“I am serious, you know.”

Howard shook his head and bent double, alternating between wheezing and laughing. “You…you can’t be.” With visible effort, he straightened up and contained himself. “That’s practically Heidi’s life. She figures it’s her ticket out of here when she’s older. The last thing she wants to do is end up exactly like Mom, bunions and all.”

“She told me she was going to make an announcement today. I missed it, since I was Ninja’d out, but you were around.”

Howard wiped tears from his eyes. “She must’ve been pulling your leg. Heidi would never do that.”

“She totally was.”

“It ain’t April Fools’, and I know my sister.”

“Howard—” Randy broke off as the door to the washroom banged open, expecting it to be Danny. Instead, it was another boy he didn’t recognize. At least, he didn’t remember ever seeing anyone with that kind of hat. Well, except for Jacques, but his beret had been black and definitely only dragged out when he was dressed as a mime.

“Uh, sorry,” the kid said. “I’ve just gotta…y’know.” He made a beeline for the stall farthest from them.

“Just….” Randy bit his lip and made sure to keep his voice quiet. “You weren’t yourself earlier, either. Neither was I. And Juggo had given up on clown school, and….” He shrugged. “I just need to figure out how to deal with Spectra now that I don’t have the suit.”

“Can’t you leave that to Phantom? Obviously he’s dealt with her before. And I seem to recall you saying something about him telling you to stay away from her. You can’t do everything yourself, dude. You’re already worrying about the Sorcerer and McFist—pointlessly, I might add.”

“I’m the _Ninja_. It’s my duty to protect people.”

“You don’t even have the suit,” Howard hissed. “You’re just an ordinary kid, Cunningham—like me, whether you like it or not!”

Howard’s words stung, even though Randy knew he didn’t really mean them to be that way. Randy knew he still had something of the Ninja Howard did not—pure heart and courage, the very reasons (as far as he knew) he’d been chosen as the Ninja in the first place. He _was_ the rightful Ninja. Besides, after trying it out, Howard had admitted he wasn’t cut out for it. 

And Howard did have a point. As far as that went, so did Spectra. Their friendship _had_ suffered somewhat since he’d become the Ninja. And Randy had certainly done his fair share of stupid things, like ignoring the Nomicon or being jealous or doubting Howard, but because they hadn’t given up on their friendship, because they’d worked to keep it, Randy figured it was stronger than it had once been, too. Because it had been tested.

It also helped that Randy had blurted out the truth about his being the Ninja to Howard after he’d thought Howard had figured it out, because they definitely wouldn’t be friends if Howard didn’t know why Randy kept ditching him.

But because Howard wasn’t the Ninja, and because the times he could help were, well, uncommon (Randy maintained that he helped get them both into trouble more often than out of it), he sometimes just wanted to be a normal teenager. He didn’t want all this extra responsibility that wasn’t even supposed to be his in the first place. He just wanted to hang out with his best bud.

And they couldn’t, because Randy had Ninja duties.

Howard would never admit it, but there was probably a small part of him hoping that the guy who’d given Randy the mask in the first place had picked it up now and was getting ready to drop it off to someone else. Howard just wanted his friend back.

But Randy hadn’t mind wiped himself yet. 

He knew what being the Ninja meant.

And even if he didn’t have the mask, even if he didn’t have the suit or the sword or throwing stars or smoke bombs or anything else, he was still the Ninja. And this mess was partially his fault, and he couldn’t turn a blind eye to this when he _knew_ it was only a matter of time before it blew up in their faces. He couldn’t ignore it and pretend he was just a normal teenager.

Because he wasn’t.

“Got your clothes,” Danny said as he came in.

Randy blinked; Danny looked perfectly dry now. His hair wasn’t even damp. How fast had he been running? “Uh, thanks.” He and Howard went to change in the stalls, and by the time they got back out, Danny was talking to the kid who’d come in earlier. 

“Hey, Randy, Howard—” Danny pointed to each of them in turn “—this is my friend, Tucker. He caught me up with what I missed when I took off my Fenton Phone.”

Tucker. As in Tuck? As in Phantom’s intel, the one who had been in McFist Industries digging up info on WNDs? Randy gave the boy a second look; he must be _smart_. To be fair, neither Randy nor Howard knew much about computers, but Viceroy had done a pretty good job on Otto so he was definitely really good with them when he really cared about something, and he wouldn’t have cut corners on something like a security system.

“Hey.” Tucker gave them a smile that made him look only slightly queasy. “Danny said you guys got roped into a weapons demo. Word of advice: if Mr. Fenton is aiming for you, don’t try to dodge it and you’ll be safe. Also, don’t mention me.” He pulled off his glasses to wipe them on his shirt before replacing them on his face. “Mr. and Mrs. F don’t exactly know I’m here yet. I’m thinking of camping in the Spectre Speeder so they don’t find out if I can avoid it.”

“Uh, noted.” Randy stuffed his soggy clothes—and the ones Howard handed him, because Howard didn’t have a backpack with him—into his bag. Water had never seemed to hurt the Nomicon before, so a little dampness shouldn’t ruin it now. “Hey, um, mind if I ask you guys something?” 

These kids knew Phantom, and Phantom knew Spectra. If the Fentons and Tucker were so convinced ghosts existed, then maybe they really did, and maybe Phantom and Spectra were _both_ ghosts. So maybe learning how to use the Fenton weapons would help a lot, now that he didn’t have the mask anymore. If Spectra was a ghost, they ought to work on her. And then he could figure out how to snap everyone else out of their funk like the Nomicon had for him and he had for Howard.

For all he knew, she was more like the Sorceress than he’d originally thought—even if she didn’t reek like the Sorceress did. The two of them definitely had the whole change of form thing down.

“Shoot,” Danny said.

“Have you guys, um, heard of Dr. Spectra before?”

Danny’s face darkened, and Tucker’s twisted. “Kids haven’t been getting sick, have they?” Tucker asked urgently. “Coming down with weird symptoms? She hasn’t switched tactics, has she?”

“It’s okay, Tuck. I haven’t sen—uh, seen any mosquitoes, and no one’s acting weird.”

“Actually….” Randy held up one finger. “A lot of kids _have_ been acting weird.”

“Yeah, but it’s just what we already knew. She’s feeding on misery.”

Howard stared at them blankly; Randy’s confusion was likely just as evident, because he didn’t understand what Danny was saying, either. “Feeding?” Howard repeated.

“She and Bertrand—he’s her assistant—both do, as far as we know.” Tucker’s smile was a little less shaky this time. “But, hey, either you guys haven’t seen her or you’ve snapped out of it! That’s progress.”

“Wait.” Randy held up a hand. “Rewind for a sec. How exactly is she feeding on misery?”

Danny shrugged. “She generates it. You know, her pep talks have the opposite effect. And when everyone’s moping around feeling miserable and sorry for themselves, no one’s going to fight against her.”

Randy glanced at Howard. “So she’s not going to leave until everyone is miserable?”

“Last time she left one cheerful target,” Tucker said, “but this time she’s scrammed. Because Danny’s parents showed up, we figure. She still thinks she can take on Phantom when he’s by himself, but the Fentons have this Fenton Peeler, and that gets her every time.”

“It doesn’t mean she’s gone for good,” Danny put in. “She’s been…. She and Bertrand haven’t been playing their usual act. I mean, maybe it’s because I haven’t run into her outside of Amity Park. Maybe it’s because she didn’t expect to encounter Phantom here. Heck, maybe it’s because of the Ninja. I don’t know. But they’re hardly fighting, barely even to defend themselves.”

“The attacking kids thing is normal, though,” Tucker added. “Spectra wants to have a perfect body, to be forever young and beautiful—even though she’s dead. Danny got her pretty good last time she pulled a stunt like this, but she and Bertrand can both pass as humans. This ain’t their first rodeo.”

Randy frowned. “So what’s super suspicious, her waiting to attack?”

Danny shook his head. “She’ll wait until she’s affected pretty much everyone in the school before doing something horrible.”

“Isn’t this _already_ horrible?” Randy asked.

“Everyone’s still alive,” Danny said quietly, “and I’m gonna make sure it stays that way.” His hands tightened into fists, and he took a few deep breaths before he had relaxed again. “No, what I don’t really get is why Bertrand isn’t making things worse. He hasn’t done a whole lot more than act like an attack dog that one time and corner us in that closet.”

“Whoa, so you’re saying this Bertrand guy can shoot those lasers, too? Just like Phantom?” Howard made a face. “I’m really not liking these guys.”

“They’re ectoblasts,” Danny reminded him. “Ghost rays.”

“Fun.” Howard made a face.

Tucker glanced at Danny. “Why was Bertrand trying to chase you guys into a closet? He knows, well, you know.”

Randy couldn’t make head or tails of that, but Danny obviously did. “I think they have it out for the Ninja, too, and his friends. Mom and Dad were out with McFist, and the first thing _he_ said when he’d found us was that he’d found the Ninja.”

Tucker’s eyebrows shot up. “Man, Viceroy’s _fast_. I was just looking at blueprints for that tracker. I mean, it looked to be a good one. Kind of like Vlad’s bugs, except smaller—more like Spectra’s mosquitoes, I guess. Something that zeros in on sound and smell and then lands on the target.”

“Sound and…smell?” Randy repeated.

“Voice patterns and pheromones,” Tucker confirmed cheerfully. “I mean, voice patterns can be altered and pheromones masked, but most people wouldn’t be thinking about countering both of them at once.” He shrugged. “But ghosts don’t give off pheromones, at least not like we do, so it shouldn’t ever get a good fix on the Ninja. I mean, Viceroy’s built in this visual confirmation thing, but it’s not like the Ninja has been hanging around since this thing has been deployed.”

Randy glanced at Howard, who shrugged. Danny and Tucker must have missed their exchange because Danny continued, “The Ninja will be fine, as long as he doesn’t try to take down Spectra by himself once she comes back.” He rooted around in his pocket for a moment and showed something to Tucker. “You still have yours?”

“Right next to my PDA.” Tucker patted his pocket.

“Good.” Danny turned and held the object out to Randy. It was the tube of lipstick his mother had given him. “Here. You might need this.”

“Uh, no, pretty sure I won’t.”

Danny rolled his eyes and pressed it into Randy’s hand. “It’s point and shoot. Tucker can show you when you’re outside. Tuck, I’m gonna, uh….”

“Catch up with Jazz? Yeah, you do that.” Tucker tapped the green device in his ear. “Just keep in touch. We’ll do a little target practice before meeting up with you again. These guys can tell me all about the Ninja in the meantime. I wanna know what McFist’s records _don’t_ say.”

-|-

The session with Booray had gone well, even if he had gotten a few more gadgets out of Viceroy than he had originally intended to give. Viceroy leaned closer to the computer screen as he replayed the showing of Booray’s memory. He’d taken a few clips—including one of the so-called swamp ghost—for further analysis. Despite his appearance, Booray’s memories were surprisingly clear. A boon, as far as Viceroy was concerned. He was much more inclined to trust them.

The flash of black was unmistakeable but not distinct, and the kid—although he was hanging upside down—was sure to keep one hand behind his back at all times. Viceroy recognized the boy, even though he didn’t remember his name. He wasn’t in Bash’s circle of friends, at least not steadily, but he’d certainly been around.

_“Aahhh!”_ The boy’s startled scream as he spotted Booray didn’t tell Viceroy much; he sounded like every other kid in the high school. He hadn’t thought the Ninja would be startled so easily, though. But then again, if he’d been stupid enough to venture into Booray’s corner of the swamp, he didn’t know of the trapper’s reputation—or perhaps of him at all.

Or maybe the Ninja was a darn fool after all.

_“Heeey, how you doin’ over there, pardner? My name’s Catfish.”_

_“Hello, Mr. Catfish, my name’s Ran…ginald. Ranginald Bagel, that’s me.”_ The boy who most certainly was _not_ Ranginald Bagel gave Booray a bright grin. The lie about his name wasn’t concrete evidence, either. Booray’s corner of the swamp was off limits to everyone—not only students—and he could just be trying to avoid more trouble. _“It seems I’ve been mistakenly caught in your trap.”_

_“Oh, there’s no mistake about it, Mr. Bagel. I’m the best trapper in these here parts. Or any parts.”_ A laugh. _“You danglin’ ‘cause you crisscrossin’ on my popaty.”_

_“Oh, no, no, no, sir, I would never crisscross on your ‘popaty’.”_ Viceroy could hear the light laugh in the boy’s voice, something that didn’t quite stave off his panic. _“This is all just a big misunderstanding.”_

_“Oh, it don’t matter.”_ The boy was cut down and Booray loomed over him. _“Now you_ my _popaty.”_

Booray had been kind enough to give him the corresponding footage for the area, but there had been some Spanish moss hanging in just the wrong spot, so Viceroy still couldn’t make out for sure exactly what the boy had been holding. 

Viceroy skipped ahead to a memory from later that day, when Booray had another kid strung up over a pot of gumbo. This kid he recognized as well; he was the one on whom Viceroy had first used the mind reading machine, the one who had claimed to know the identity of the Ninja. Of course, when they’d tried to read his mind, all they could get were readings of Whoopee World, and then the Ninja had whisked the boy away.

Howard. The boy’s name was Howard. And if his friend _was_ the Ninja, then maybe he really _did_ know the Ninja’s identity.

The first boy was back, and Viceroy studied him with narrowed eyes. He showed the Ninja’s swagger and stupidity (though he’d likely call it bravery) as he stood up to Booray, and he had to have some sense if he’d gotten out of Booray’s cage. But the reason Viceroy always got the creepy crawlies around Booray was because he could do something that defied science, and his control over the creatures of the swamp made him a very formidable enemy.

But the boy, although clearly in fear for his life, still had quick reflexes and seemed to have little trouble sacrificing himself to try to save his friend.

Viceroy stared at the mud pit in which the boy had disappeared with the panther. He knew that sort of mud, slick and viscous and suffocating. By all rights, neither the boy nor the panther should have been able to make it to the surface. The force of his jump had pushed them under the surface quickly, but it would have been next to impossible to come back.

And then, as Booray had nearly slit the last braided cord of the rope, the Ninja broke the surface of the mud, and not a speck of it stuck to him. He was shortly followed by the panther, its ease no doubt aided by Booray’s magic. The boy who had gone under earlier did not reappear—unless he was the Ninja.

Viceroy smiled. 

They had the Ninja now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit similar ending, perhaps, although this is arguably more damning evidence, and the plan all along was to backup what they found. *grins* Thanks to everyone who’s been reading and especially to those who have been kind enough to leave a comment or two.


	12. Chapter 12

Jazz was waiting in the shade of a tree by the back entrance they’d used to get into the school earlier, but even so, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard Danny’s voice. Jack and Maddie had taken the Fenton Finder with them when they’d gone chasing after the ghosts on the radar—the Ninja and the invader, according to them, though Jazz was more inclined to think it was Spectra and Bertrand.

If that were the case, it wouldn’t be long before her parents lost the trail, Fenton Finder or no.

But she was pretty sure her little brother already knew that; he would have scouted the grounds before coming to her.

“You were a little late.”

Jazz rolled her eyes at the chiding tone in Danny’s voice. She knew exactly what Danny was referring to, and it figured he’d choose that for an opening remark. “I wasn’t sure at first that they were after you. They didn’t know we were here in the first place.”

“They weren’t surprised to find us.” Danny materialized by her side, evidently deeming the coast clear. He was still in ghost mode. His suit had mended itself, and he didn’t look at all tired, so his previous injuries must not have been bothering him anymore.

“I noticed.” Jazz pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “They know we’re digging. I’m pretty sure they know _why_ we’re digging.” She paused, biting her lip. “I think I know what this is, Danny.”

Danny blinked. “Really? What?”

Jazz sighed. “You know how Mom and Dad keep wanting to take us out into the field and we always manage to find one excuse or another to avoid that?”

“Definitely.”

“It’s a test. This—” Jazz waved her arm around “—is _all_ one big test, a field test. This is my last year at home. I’m going off to college next year, and you’re growing up, too. I think they want to assure themselves that we’re ready.”

“To, what, fight ghosts without them? That’s kind of ironic, isn’t it?”

“It definitely will be if you ever tell them who you are.”

“Jazz.”

“I know, I know. I won’t bring it up again. You still need to think about it, though. You can’t keep this a secret forever. If you don’t want it to blow up in your face—”

“ _Jazz_.”

“All right, I’ll stop. Just…promise me you’ll think about it?” Danny rolled his eyes, and Jazz knew she wasn’t going to get any more assent than that, so she moved on. “I think they wanted to give us an opportunity to do exactly what we’re doing.”

“The difference being that we don’t want to destroy the Ninja like they think needs to happen because we know he’s not going to destroy Norrisville.”

“Exactly. Which is why I want to talk to the Ninja. They won’t leave here unless they think we—or they—have taken care of the ghost problem here.”

“So either the Ninja agrees to getting captured and we free him without their realizing it or we just make them think they’ve captured the Ninja?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

Danny huffed. “At least you didn’t suggest getting in touch with Amorpho.”

A smile tugged at Jazz’s lips. “He would enjoy the attention, I’m sure. But there’s no ghost portal here, even if we do have the Spectre Speeder.”

“So you mean the thought actually crossed your mind?”

Jazz made a face. “Don’t give me that look. The Ninja has very little reason to trust us and to trust that we’d release him, and I’m not sure that we can come up with a reasonable facsimile of his costume unless _you’ve_ suddenly learned how to shapeshift.”

“Doubt that’s ever going to happen.” Danny glanced around again and then shifted from Phantom to Fenton. He pulled something out of his pocket. “I haven’t seen the Ninja around, either, but Tucker did find this.”

It was a mask. Jazz looked at it with a raised eyebrow. “Let me guess. This is the Ninja’s mask?”

“I doubt it’s actually his, since someone had tossed it. Tuck’s probably right to think it’s just merchandise. But it looks the same, so all I need to do is dress in black, wear that thing, and find a red scarf or two. All you can see of the Ninja are his eyes. They’re a darker blue than mine, but I doubt anyone who’s attacked him has seen him for long enough to remember the exact shade. The guy’s fast when he wants to be. And I already show up on all of Mom and Dad’s stuff.”

Jazz hemmed and hawed for a moment before nodding once, decisively. “We’ll check with the Ninja first, if we find him, but otherwise that will be our plan. Just, Danny, you don’t _sound_ like him.”

“I’m working on that,” Danny muttered.

Jazz crossed her arms. “All right, then. Try.”

Danny made a face at her, but she just looked back, and he relented with an eye roll. He did nothing for a moment and without warning came at her feet first, shouting, “Ninja Kick!”

Jazz closed her eyes, hating the shiver-inducing feeling that she got when Danny passed through her. “You’re pitching your voice wrong.”

“You don’t even know what he sounds like,” Danny complained as he walked back over to her.

“No, but you sound too much like yourself to have it right.”

Danny stuck out his tongue at her. “I’m still working on it.”

“Clearly.” Jazz reached into her bag and pulled out the Fenton Peeler. “I borrowed this from Mom and Dad. If you fly me, we should be able to catch up to Spectra and Bertrand before they do. Is Tucker all right on his own?”

“Yeah, he’s going to show Randy and Howard how to shoot ahead of the big demo tonight.” At Jazz’s look, Danny added, “They’re students here. They’ve been telling me a bit about the Ninja, before Bertrand herded us into the janitor’s closet.”

Jazz arched an eyebrow. “Why would he do that? He knows he can’t trap you there.”

“He also knew I was with people who don’t know about my powers.”

Jazz snorted. “You can pull off duplication now, Danny. That shouldn’t stop you.”

“I know, I know. Tucker pointed that out, too. But I don’t know why, okay? I haven’t figured that out yet.” Danny paused. “I haven’t figured out where the Ninja got to, either. I mean, I know I told him to lay low, but if someone said that to me back in Amity Park and then people were in danger, I would’ve ignored them. And either he’s cleared out or he’s good enough that he doesn’t show up on Mom and Dad’s stuff, unless you heard them talking about three ghosts after they realized I was here.”

Jazz frowned, shaking her head slightly in reply to Danny’s question. “You don’t think Mom and Dad already got him?”

Danny shook his head. “Not unless it was after they found me, because they were still looking for him when they left me to clean up after the Fenton Foamer incident. They know McFist is after him, by the way. He probably figured there wasn’t any harm in telling them considering how they view ghosts.”

“He has to be somewhere. Everything I can find points to the Ninja having a hero streak like you do, little brother.”

Danny glared at her, but she was used to shrugging that off. After a few seconds, Danny said, “We’ll leave Spectra and Bertrand to Mom and Dad. If they shake them, we’ll deal with them tomorrow, once Randy and Howard know how to handle some weapons, too. They might not be good backup, but we can use all the backup we can get. Sam’s a better shot than you or Tucker, so I’ll miss having her in the field.”

Jazz smirked. “You miss having her around for more reasons than that.”

Danny reddened. “Shut up,” he muttered. 

Jazz laughed. “Besides, Tucker and I have been practicing, and I worked well with him when Nocturne attacked. We’re both a lot better than when we started. I might not be as good a shot as Valerie or Sam or Mom, but I’m way past the point of sucking you into a thermos.”

“Unless you’re mad at me.”

“Unless I’m mad at you,” Jazz agreed amiably, “or unless I know you’re about to do something incredibly stupid and that _is_ a feasible means of stopping you without dooming the town.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Jazz shoved the Fenton Peeler back into her bag. “So do you have a better plan than target practice?”

“Infiltration,” Danny said, switching back to ghost mode. “McFist’s with Mom and Dad, which means Viceroy’s probably playing mad scientist. We can come back if he’s just playing solitaire or something, but if he’s up to something good, now would be a good time to check in on him.”

“I’m flattered that you want me along, but isn’t that a better solo mission?”

“Not when I’m not going to understand what’s going on,” Danny confessed. “You get more of this stuff than I do. It’s no problem to keep both of us invisible. You just need to keep a hold of me and pinch me or something if you need to talk to me right away.”

Jazz shifted her bag so that it was slung crosswise across her chest; she didn’t want to lose it on the trip. “Ready when you are.”

Danny crouched. “Get on,” he said. “I’ll carry you piggyback for the way there.”

Jazz giggled. “We haven’t done this for a while,” she said as she jumped on, “although I seem to remember you were usually the one begging me for rides.”

Danny grinned and turned to look over his shoulder at her as he stood up. “Think of this as payback, then.”

Jazz’s eyes widened. “Wait, Danny—” The rest of her words were lost in a shriek as he blasted off the ground, and she clutched him tighter and closed her eyes against the cold wind. 

If they got out of this alive, she was going to kill him.

-|-

They never caught the Ninja or any ghosts, which didn’t entirely surprise McFist. He was almost completely certain they’d left the Ninja behind, unless Viceroy’s machine had made a mistake, which was entirely possible because it was Viceroy and he’d failed multiple times before. He had hoped to see more concrete evidence of ghosts than a few scorch marks in the school halls, though. For all he knew, those were left over from one of the Ninja’s fights.

He couldn’t explain why that Fenton Finder had led them to the Ninja, though, when he knew the Ninja wasn’t a ghost. He knew the Ninja wasn’t like the Sorcerer because he’d worked out that the Ninja was one of the students at Norrisville High, but he hadn’t quite figured out exactly how that worked. If the Sorcerer knew, he didn’t bother to fill them in. 

McFist didn’t really care if it all boiled down to the _spirit_ of the Ninja being passed on, because he hadn’t been enamoured with the Ninja since the day he’d returned to Norrisville High after the conveyor belt incident and the Ninja had poked fun at his mechanical arm.

Couple that old wound with the Sorcerer’s promise of a reward, and McFist was determined to catch the Ninja, whoever he was.

When the Fentons dropped him off, McFist headed straight up to his office. “You better have good news,” he barked at Viceroy, who was sitting on his desk and flipping through something that looked suspiciously like Bash’s yearbook from the previous year. “The Ninja got away!”

“We haven’t lost the signal,” Viceroy said patiently. “We can track him again easily. Your receiver is still blinking, isn’t it?”

McFist grumbled but pulled it out. To his surprise, the receiver was flashing rapidly, much like it had back at the school. His brow furrowed. “Isn’t that supposed to mean the Ninja is close?”

Viceroy’s eyes were wide, and he abandoned whatever he’d been doing. “It means he’s practically on top of us!”

They looked around wildly for a moment but could see nothing. McFist pounded the lockdown alarm on his desk to be on the safe side. He’d rather put up with sirens than lose the Ninja _again_.

Viceroy pursed his lips. “Now he knows we’re onto him,” he said reproachfully.

“Now the Robo-Apes know to catch him!” McFist countered loudly. He could see the Ninja Finder itself on a table near the main computer module in his office. Either his receiver was broken or Viceroy had silenced the main machine after he’d alerted McFist to the Ninja’s presence at the school. Either way, McFist wasn’t impressed.

Viceroy didn’t look too happy either, no doubt because they’d now given the Ninja warning, but he composed himself. “I got the mind reader up and running again and have been analyzing the session with Booray.” He went back to collect the book he’d been looking at earlier. It _was_ one of Bash’s old yearbooks, opened to the page of ninth graders. “This is the boy who posed as Ranginald Bagel.” 

McFist leaned in closer to get a good look at the picture Viceroy had tapped with his finger. Despite the boy making a fool of himself and making faces at the camera, his features were unmistakeable. “Randall Cunningham,” McFist read. He nodded. “It fits with what I saw earlier. We cornered three kids in the school when the Ninja Finder said the Ninja was right in front of us, and he was one of them.” And he was the only one of them who really fit; it wasn’t the Fentons’ boy or that other kid, since he’d seen the shorter boy with the Ninja before multiple times.

He’d be tempted to activate the McSterminator protocol if it wasn’t for the chance—however slim—that it would end in his stepson’s vaporization. Viceroy had never been too clear on whether or not he’d been successful in wiping that incident from the memory banks. Well, that, and he didn’t know if Viceroy had completely rebuilt the vaporizer yet. The man had a tendency to let those sorts of things slide.

Viceroy hemmed and closed the yearbook, laying it down on McFist’s desk. “And did you see any ghosts while you were out?”

McFist snorted, which was all the answer Viceroy seemed to need.

“Then you’ll be interested in this as well, sir.” Viceroy lifted a hand to call over Otto and ordered the robot to project something for him. As the scene began to play out, Viceroy explained, “This is what Booray encountered in the swamp yesterday.”

It didn’t seem like much at first, just some kid in a strange getup jumping from tree to tree. That was impressive enough, McFist supposed, especially considering he didn’t see the kid swinging on any vines, but it still wasn’t noteworthy on its own. Booray had him roped quickly, and the kid looked so startled—and scared—that he didn’t say a word.

And then he just vanished, the rope holding him going slack as if it had never caught on anything in the first place.

Viceroy had Otto rewind and pause on a good shot of the so-called ghost. “I’ve been looking into things,” he drawled, “and this boy has made quite a name for himself.”

McFist frowned. “You believe this, then?” Frankly, he’d expected Viceroy to look a lot more jumpy than he was if he did. The man was a pussy, and it was no secret that all this talk of ghosts unnerved him.

Viceroy spread his hands. “I don’t know how I can’t, sir.”

McFist’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”

“This.…” Viceroy hesitated. “This ghost, sir. We can confirm his identity quite easily, but what I can ascertain from the unique symbol on his chest—”

“Just get to the point!” Viceroy was dragging the explanation on to spite him. McFist was quite sure of that.

Viceroy straightened his glasses. “If I’m not mistaken, he is a ghost from Amity Park, one quite well known to the Fentons. One Danny Phantom.”

“Phantom, huh?” McFist grunted. “Maddie mentioned him. He sounds like a menace like the Ninja.”

Viceroy blinked, as if he hadn’t quite expected this. He had undoubtedly hoped he’d been wrong. “Yes, well, he isn’t like any sort of ghost I’ve heard of if it truly is him. The Fentons talk about that alternate dimension, but I’d been under the impression that spirits had to be held here by something.”

“And that’s why you’re not an expert in the field,” McFist snapped, even though he’d thought much the same. 

“Unless whatever is tying Phantom to this world is in possession of the Fentons.”

McFist raised an eyebrow. “I know Jack, especially, comes off as a bumbling idiot, but his inventions certainly seem to work, and Maddie knows her stuff. The scientific stuff, I mean. You really think they wouldn’t recognize a cursed object if it was in their possession?”

“I do give them more credit than that,” Viceroy said, “but since our hacker turned out to be one Tucker Foley from Amity Park, dear friend of young Daniel Fenton, I’ve been taking a closer look at their kids.”

McFist blinked, taken aback. “Their kids?” He hadn’t been paying too much attention to their kids. They were just teenage brats, the girl about Bash’s age and the boy a year or two younger. Sure, they both seemed smarter than his stepson, but from what he’d understood, the Fentons thought them competent but fairly uninterested in the family business, for all that the girl had defended it vehemently. The unofficial reason for being here was to test the skills of the children when it came to ghost hunting and hopefully to spark their interest, after all. It wasn’t like the kids did this on a regular basis or anything. “What about their kids?”

“I think they know more than their parents realize.” Viceroy pulled out his McFist Pad and hit a few buttons. Otto chirped and projected a readout with which McFist was all too familiar: condensed data logs from some of the Robo-Apes.

“What am I looking at?” McFist groused, eyes scanning the data for some sort of anomaly.

“Personnel logs, off our security detail.” Viceroy pointed to a particular time segment from yesterday morning. “Remember how the youngest Fenton joined us late?”

McFist squinted at the shimmering print, thinking it wouldn’t kill Viceroy to have had Otto enlarge it. “He showed up in D2? By the break room? There’s no outside door leading into there.” D1, sure, that was part of their catering division. D2 was storage, special parts for their Robo-Apes and some of their experimental robots, and only the robots used the break room. There were washrooms and everything, since the building had been designed with human workers in mind, but McFist couldn’t remember the last time he’d been down there personally.

“Precisely.”

“How the heck did he get in there?”

“That’s my point, sir.” 

McFist made a swipe at the hologram, and Otto was sensible enough to shut it off. “We’ve got another hole in our security?”

“That’s the thing, sir. Our systems are working perfectly, and I did a walkabout myself over my lunch break. We aren’t missing anything that I can find.”

“Then keep looking! That Fenton boy and the Ninja got in here somehow!”

“I don’t know about the Ninja, but from what I’ve read about Phantom, the children of Amity Park are enamoured with him, with the idea of a ghostly hero—much like everyone is here with the Ninja. I’m not convinced the Fenton children are any different.”

“You think a ghost sneaked him in and purposely dropped him off somewhere where there weren’t weapons lying around? Why wouldn’t he just walk in?”

“You said you ran into him at the school. Why would he be there when he’s on vacation?”

McFist pulled a face as he realized what Viceroy was implying. “He was with the Ninja earlier. You think he and his sister know what their parents don’t, that the Ninja’s not a ghost? You think they’re trying to help him?”

“I think Jack and Maddie Fenton are competent enough that Phantom would have been caught by now if he wasn’t getting help from their children. Phantom’s MO isn’t much different from the Ninja’s. It’s reasonable that they’d side with him.”

Great. Just great. Another wrench in the works. “Let’s not tell the Sorcerer about that quite yet,” McFist said delicately. “I mean, they’re just kids. How much harm can they do?”

Viceroy gave him a pointed look and a raised eyebrow. 

McFist groaned and rubbed his temples to fend off his growing headache. “Shut the alarms off!” he snapped. “The Ninja’s long gone by now anyway.” If someone had caught him, he’d already know.

Viceroy cut the alarm but hovered by the desk. “Should I get the Sorcerer on the line, sir?”

They might as well; they had some news now, at least. “You should have called him this morning!”

“You were with the Fentons.” It was a pointed, reproachful statement. Neither of them particularly liked dealing with the Sorcerer without having the other there to deflect some of the attention.

McFist forced a smile onto his face, but it twitched. He gritted his teeth. “Call him now, Viceroy.” 

McFist turned to look at the glass within which the image of the Sorcerer would appear. He still wasn’t sure how it worked, exactly. It was something Viceroy had installed to the Sorcerer’s specifications, and _getting_ those specifications had been an ordeal McFist still didn’t like to think about. 

If they ever actually succeeded and the Sorcerer got out, McFist was going to get his reward and then get as far away from him as possible.

The Sorcerer’s faced loomed suddenly in the glass. McFist heard a squeak and looked sideways at Viceroy, but the man had already managed to compose himself. “You rang?” the Sorcerer drawled. It wasn’t followed by a sharp _‘What news do you have?’_ or _‘What do you want now, McFist?’_ , which meant he was in a good mood. That was promising. 

“We know the identity of the Ninja,” McFist said smoothly, his confidence bolstered. His smile melted into something more genuine. “Shall we talk about the details of my reward?” He wanted to get a feel for what the Sorcerer thought might be the better superpower without actually out and out asking him.

The Sorcerer’s eyes narrowed, and McFist’s confidence shattered. “Are you certain?” he hissed, all traces of the light tone he’d used earlier gone. “You’ve been wrong before.”

“Yes, well….” McFist floundered and resorted to an old standby: blaming Viceroy. He flung a hand toward the offending man, starting, “He’s the one who—”

“ _You’re_ the one I made a deal with, McFist!” the Sorcerer snapped, cutting off any retort Viceroy had been about to make. “My freedom in exchange for the superpower of your choosing. If I escape unaided by you—”

“Oh, that’ll never happen.” McFist waved the worry off before the Sorcerer’s words sunk in. “I mean, uh….”

“Are you implying I am _incompetent_?”

“No, no, of course not,” McFist insisted. “Just, uh, that you’ve not had, ah, the best of luck.” A muscle in his cheek twitched; his smile was too wide, too static. “But we’ll get you your freedom now that we know the identity of the Ninja!”

“We believe it’s Randall Cunningham,” Viceroy explained as he reached for Bash’s yearbook.

“I wanted to tell him!” McFist barked, rounding on his head scientist. “After all, I figured out who it was!”

“ _You_ , sir? I believe _I_ —”

“Enough!” The Sorcerer’s booming voice shocked them both to silence. “If you know the identity of the Ninja, _crush him_. Bring me his head on a platter or blast him into atoms. I won’t be picky—” here, the Sorcerer’s voice grew softer and sharper “—as long as you are successful. And if you aren’t—”

“We will be!” McFist interrupted. “I guarantee it!”

“Sir—”

“The last time you _guaranteed it_ ,” the Sorcerer snarled, “I never left the pit. Your word means nothing, McFist, when you cannot keep it.”

“It’s different this time! Now that we know who the Ninja is, he won’t be able to escape!”

“See that he can’t.” The Sorcerer surveyed them for a moment. “Remember the terms of our agreement. If you fail me again, I will find someone who will not, someone who is _worthy_ of my reward.”

“There’s no need to be so hasty,” McFist said quickly. “I mean, one trap gone wrong here or there, it’s nothing, right?” The Sorcerer glowered at him. McFist hurried on. “It’s all different now that we know the _true_ identity of the Ninja. He can’t hide from us forever! It’s only a matter of time.”

“I will give you one final chance, McFist. I tire of listening to your empty promises. Destroy the Ninja. Then we shall see about your reward, once you have earned it.”

“Of course, Mr. Sorcerer, sir!” McFist bobbed his head almost automatically. This wasn’t the first time the Sorcerer had given him _one last chance_ —but he had the horrible feeling this _was_ his last chance this time. “Viceroy, tell the man about my brilliant tracking device.”

“You mean _my_ brilliant tracking device?”

“Just get on with it!” 

Viceroy rolled his eyes and turned to address the Sorcerer. “We’ve bugged the Ninja. He doesn’t need to be in his suit for it to be active; we’ll be able to find him wherever he goes, regardless of what disguise he tries wearing. If we can’t convince him to come to us, we’ll be able to find a reason to go to him.”

“Something nice,” McFist added, “so he won’t suspect a thing!” And, considering the Fentons were around, so _they_ wouldn’t suspect a thing. Somehow McFist had a feeling it wouldn’t go over so well if he were to attack someone who most certainly was not a ghost.

“You are trying my patience, McFist. If you are so confident in your plans, implement them! Do not waste your breath telling me about something until you _have_ something more than a name.” The Sorcerer gave them both a long look. “You have one day.” His image swirled like smoke and he vanished, his unspoken threat ringing in McFist’s ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's been reading and taken the time to comment. Just a heads up that, given some of the episode plots with RC:9GN that have aired in the second season after Christmas, chances are good that this story is going to go a little bit more canon divergent/AU than I'd originally intended. Also, as far as Randy's age goes, I figured if he's had two Halloweens as the Ninja, then he technically should be in grade ten.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the existence of the fabled Ninja of Norrisville is finally explained—at least by Jazz’s logic, since things don’t quite add up to the previous conclusion anymore. *grins* Thanks to everyone who’s been reading and commenting!

Jazz stumbled when Danny put her down. They hadn’t gone far, just back to the alleyway where she had first seen him off, but…. Jazz sagged against a wall before easing herself to the ground, thankful for the feel of the rough, cool brick against her back. It helped centre her, gave her something concrete to concentrate on while her thoughts whirled. She still wasn’t entirely certain she’d seen and heard what she thought she had. _The Sorcerer_. Tucker had thought it was a codename.

Jazz was now quite certain it wasn’t.

She was considerably less certain of what that meant.

“You gonna be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Jazz replied, still staring at the browning remains of an unidentifiable weed sticking up through one of the cracks in the pavement. _Focus_. “I just…need a minute.” Ghosts were real. So, maybe…. But how could this even possibly—?

“It doesn’t make much sense,” Danny said quietly.

 _That_ was the understatement of the year.

Jazz forced herself to put aside everything they’d just learned that didn’t make any sense, which was admittedly the majority as Danny had said. Still, maybe it should make sense, based on what she’d learned of ghosts. The Ghost Zone was a mirror of their world. It held fanciful creatures that were mere tales and myths in her world, but there was always something…. There was always something of that reflection to be found, that grain of truth in the fable.

She had no trouble believing that the Sorcerer was not human, at least not anymore. What they’d seen had merely been a projection, so he would not have set off Danny’s ghost sense. But he was clearly nearby or he wouldn’t be dealing with McFist, so Danny _should_ have sensed him.

Of course, she’d gotten the impression that he’d been trying to escape his prison for a while, and she didn’t know of any natural barriers a ghost couldn’t whittle away when left to its own devices for extended periods of time. At least, she couldn’t think of any that wouldn’t break down or at least weaken with time. But he had to be a ghost.

Didn’t he?

She’d always thought magic tricks were just that: tricks. Illusions performed by someone skilled. Sometimes, it was just science. But she knew of Desiree’s magic, so maybe….

Jazz groaned and buried her face in her hands, her fingers reaching up to pull at her hair.

She didn’t want there to be a _maybe_.

“Look, at least we know McFist can’t have it entirely right.” 

Jazz glanced over at her little brother, who was still floating a few inches above the ground. Since when had their roles reversed? Since when was he the one who took in all this craziness so calmly? Since when did he make a point of specifically looking out for her, making sure she was coping with everything life threw at her?

_Since the accident. Since all this craziness had become a part of his life he could never leave behind._

Jazz pushed the thought away. “How so?”

“Well, for one, he thinks Randy is the Ninja. And, okay, I know I can’t pick up the Ninja with my ghost sense, but Randy definitely is not dead. Or, like, eight hundred years old. And he definitely wasn’t anywhere around McFist Industries like they thought he was, because Tuck is showing him and Howard how to use some of the FentonWorks weapons. I mean, sure, he might’ve slipped off, but that’s really easy to confirm. I can call Tucker now.”

Jazz shook her head wearily as she forced herself to straighten. “No, don’t bother. We’ll catch up with them soon enough. Just…. How can the Ninja be a ghost, Danny, if this tracker can zero in on him? Even Mom and Dad need to know the specific ecto-signature of a ghost to find it, and I never got the impression that anyone or anything at McFist Industries was set up to identify that, let alone build it into a tracking device.”

“Well, their tracking device isn’t working, is it, if it keeps telling them that the Ninja is somewhere he isn’t? Because if he was there when we were, he’s way better than I gave him credit for. And, anyway, how can the Ninja _not_ be a ghost? I know McFist doesn’t think he is, but the guy doesn’t look like he really believes in ghosts, even after meeting Mom and Dad. Besides, Randy and Howard said he’s been around since the thirteenth century or something like that. You and I both know people don’t live that long but ghosts _can_ be around for that long. Easily. I mean, look at Dora and Aragon. They’re, like, from the Dark Ages.”

Jazz frowned. She hadn’t met the ghosts personally, but she’d been through Danny’s files and she remembered the time Dora had come to their school disguised as a human. It had been hard to miss the Miss Teenage Happy Princess Beauty Pageant, even for someone who normally holed up in the library with more books than friends.

“Maybe you’re on to something,” Jazz allowed.

“It’s not that hard to figure out. Especially if _I_ can figure it out.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Jazz murmured. “You have a better head for combat than I do.” She was only paying Danny half a mind, though; she was preoccupied with trying to figure out if what she’d just worked out was the reason half of this had made no sense to them before. “Danny….” She bit her lip. “I really don’t think the Ninja is a ghost.”

“Uh, Jazz? Have you not been listening to me?”

“Just think about it for a minute,” she said softly. “You can’t sense him—”

“Yeah, but he’s a ninja, and I _know_ there are ways for ghosts to mask themselves from me so my ghost sense won’t pick them up.”

“He doesn’t use the basic ghost powers.”

“He can still shoot a mean fireball with just his hands. You wanna tell me how a perfectly normal human could have almost fried me like that?”

“If they got turned into a dragon and breathed fire on you.”

Danny frowned, the confusion written all over his face as he stared down at her. “What?”

“Like Dorathea’s amulet, Danny. An object which possesses powers that can be transferred to the wearer. Something that can transform a perfectly normal human being into something they’re not and give them powers they wouldn’t ordinarily have.”

Danny blinked at her. “You think the Ninja isn’t a ghost but a _legacy_?”

“Why not? Humans can adapt more readily than ghosts, which is ideal if he really is guarding something.”

Danny said it for her: “Or someone, like the Sorcerer?” He hesitated then and asked, slowly, “Do you think he really _is_ —?”

“I don’t know,” Jazz admitted. She twirled a lock of hair around her finger, thinking. “I don’t want to say he isn’t. I never used to think ghosts were real. And if the Ninja isn’t a ghost, then maybe he isn’t, either. And maybe he’s the reason Vlad’s never set foot in Norrisville, at least as far as we can tell.” She untangled her fingers and climbed to her feet. “But that’s not our only problem, Danny. They know about you.”

“They know about the existence of Phantom,” he countered, but she could hear the unease in his voice and suspected she knew what had caused it. She could remember what Viceroy had said, but she hadn’t thought mind reading was truly possible before she’d gotten up this morning, either.

“And they know you’re involved with him. I don’t expect them to realize who you are, Danny, but if they mention to Mom and Dad that we might be friendly with Phantom, they’ll make us wear Spectre Deflectors, and you _know_ how well that’s going to go over.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “They already know you’re friendly with Phantom. It’s not a major leap to think I might be, too.”

“They think you’re terrified of ghosts.”

Danny pulled a face. “I don’t think they really believe that. They know I’ve willingly gone ghost hunting before—and once with Phantom, the time I split myself. I think they think I’m at the stage you were when this started.”

He didn’t mean denial, so that left…. “Disapproval?”

“Reluctance.” 

“Hmm.” She’d give him that; it did make sense, when you didn’t know the truth. “But we still need to figure out what we’re going to do when McFist comes after you. Now that he has some of Mom and Dad’s weapons, he might actually catch you.”

“Mom and Dad haven’t caught me, except the time I let them. You really think McFist and Viceroy more competent? It sounds like they’ve been trying to catch the Ninja for a while with no success.”

Jazz pursed her lips. “Yes, but the Ninja undoubtedly knows a good deal more about them and this Sorcerer than you do, Danny.” She took a deep breath. “I want to talk to Randy.”

“Okay, I’ll admit he had this weird book on him that Howard said belonged to the Ninja, but I don’t really see how that would, you know, transform him or anything if you’re right.”

Jazz arched an eyebrow. “Weird book?” she repeated. She wasn’t sure a book would do the trick, although it _might_ be the reason this worked, what with the confusion a person tended to feel after transformation via cursed object. She didn’t know enough to make a good call yet.

Danny shrugged. “I couldn’t open it, even though nothing bound the pages. But it didn’t feel like a ghost thing, Jazz.”

“It doesn’t mean it isn’t. Aren’t you the first one to admit you don’t know everything about the Ghost Zone and ghosts in general? The more you tell me, the clearer it is that we know next to nothing. Besides, if I’m wrong, I’m wrong. I just don’t think I am.”

“You never think you are,” Danny muttered. “Fine. But for the record, accusing Randy of being the Ninja probably isn’t the smartest thing. I mean, I don’t take it too well when people accuse me of being a ghost. Unless I’m messing with them.”

Jazz rolled her eyes. “Just get us to the school or wherever they’ve gone now.”

-|-

“Ha! I’m totally better at this than you are, Cunningham.” Howard grinned and handed the lipstick laser to Randy.

Randy huffed. They’d finally abandoned the school and headed to the park—the big one that wasn’t ‘pets only’. It was then that they really started having fun, attempting to prune straggly bushes into shapes with the Fenton weapon. It worked surprisingly well for that, though they quickly realized that it worked infinitely better with evergreens than anything that had already lost half its leaves. Tucker had looked like he’d _thought_ about stopping them, but in the end all he did was shrug and suggest what they should try to make. Truth was, Howard had a surprisingly steady hand. And Randy apparently tried to rush things too much, moving the laser before it had cut through all the branches, so he saw more messes than pruned bushes.

He was kinda surprised nothing had caught fire, but when he’d mentioned it Tucker had launched into a long, complicated explanation, and Randy had tuned him out.

“Hey,” Tucker called out, “Danny and Jazz are heading over. Jazz said they found something interesting on the Ninja but refuses to spill until they get here. Any ideas?”

“Nope,” Howard replied easily. He turned to Randy. “You gonna shoot or concede defeat?”

It was an opening, an escape from Tucker’s question—or possibly just a taunt. It was hard to tell. Randy smirked. “Carp,” he said, eyeing his next target. It was a bushy sort of evergreen, already somewhat rounded, and in theory it shouldn’t be terribly hard to shape when the laser could cut through the thick branches like a hot knife through butter.

In theory.

Howard snorted when Randy had finished. “Looks more like a dead chicken with its feathers sticking up all over the place.”

Randy couldn’t argue, and he already knew Howard could do better. He tossed the laser back to Tucker, who caught it but still looked surprised. “You want to have a go before we have to leave?”

For a moment, Randy thought Tucker was going to take him up on the offer. In the end, though, Tucker just tossed the weapon back to him. “Keep it; I’ve got my own. And I’m more of the technogeek backup than the frontline fighter. I only do that when I have to. Which is more than I usually want to. You just wait for some evil ghosts to show up if you want to see my mad skills.”

Howard crossed his arms and muttered, loudly, “Bet he’s worse than you.”

“Hey, I heard that.” But Tucker was grinning, and it was easy to tell he didn’t mean it. “Besides, don’t judge me by my PDA. Plasma Peach is my colour—uh, Fenton Utility Weapon of choice. Laser Lipstick for short. I’m good with it.” 

“Uh huh.” Howard clearly didn’t believe him, and he turned back to Randy. “I’m gonna text Heidi and tell her I’m hanging out with you and won’t be home.” He hesitated. “You, uh, don’t think I should skip out on this, do you?”

Randy definitely didn’t mind being an only child when he imagined Heidi being his older sister, but Howard—as much as he tried to hide it—had a soft spot for her. “It’s up to you, bro.”

Howard pulled a face. “I’ll buy her a chocolate bar or something on the way home.”

Randy raised an eyebrow. “You’ve actually got money on you?”

“No-o,” Howard said slowly, “but you do, right?”

It figured.

Randy dug out his wallet and handed Howard a five, then followed Howard’s lead and phoned home to leave a quick message. His mom tended to assume he was hanging out with Howard when he didn’t show up after school or for supper, but he got constant reminders that ‘being told would be appreciated’ so she knew he wasn’t ‘hit by a bus or lying dead in an alley somewhere’. 

He actually wasn’t sure whether his mom would worry more or less if she ever found out he was the Ninja. It was a moot point, since she wouldn’t, but still. Hadn’t he earned her trust by now?

Actually, thinking on what he’d done since he’d hit high school, there was probably a very good reason he _didn’t_ have his mom’s full trust.

It wasn’t very long before Danny and a girl—Jazz, Randy assumed—showed up. Jazz eyed him with interest when the introductions were made, so he wasn’t entirely surprised when she dragged him off to a park bench. And, since Danny had obviously stopped to get some snacks somewhere along the way, he could understand why Howard didn’t follow. He wouldn’t have minded having some McSquiddles himself, though.

“Danny said you have a book that belongs to the Ninja,” Jazz said without preamble.

“Uh, yeah. In my bag. It’s just temporary. I mean, the Ninja can’t keep it when he goes, y’know, wherever he goes when he isn’t saving us. But don’t spread that around, in case the wrong people hear it.”

Jazz’s eyes narrowed and Randy half expected her to challenge what he’d said. Instead, she asked, “Can I see it?”

“Uh….”

“Come on.” Jazz smiled at him. “What harm can I do when I can’t open it? It’s not like I’m going to steal it. And even if I was stupid enough to try, I’m sure you could stop me.”

Randy wasn’t entirely sure why she said that with such confidence. He was a scrawny kid, she looked fit, and based on what her parents did, she probably knew how to fight. He was pretty sure most girls like her would think they could take him. Especially if they’d ever seen him in gym class, but even without that.

Rather reluctantly, Randy handed the Nomicon over. Jazz looked at it with interest like her brother had before pulling at the cover. As Randy had expected, the Nomicon refused to open.

Unlike he expected, Jazz handed it back to him and said, “Now you try.”

Randy didn’t have to fake the confused look he gave her.

“Who knows? I might have loosened it.”

Warily, Randy propped the Nomicon up on its spine. He had to trust that it wouldn’t open for him. Biting his lip, he tugged on the cover.

Nothing.

He hoped this was because Jazz was here and not because it had decided not to open for him anymore, at least until it was safe to mind wipe himself.

Randy gave a weak smile and shoved the Nomicon back into his bag. “Only the Ninja can open it.”

“Hmm. So Danny said. Kinda makes you wonder what’s in there, though.”

“Ninja knowledge,” Randy said before biting his tongue. Trying to save himself, he said, “I mean, that would make sense, wouldn’t it?”

Jazz gave him a sideways glance. “It would make more sense if the Ninja that hangs around here now isn’t the same person as he was when he first turned up.”

Randy felt like she’d thrown a bucket of cold water over him. “Uh…. But isn’t the Ninja a ghost?” That’s what they believed; he _knew_ that’s what they believed. They were dead wrong, of course, but he didn’t need to correct them. At least, not yet.

“That’s what I thought, but it definitely isn’t what Mr. McFist seems to think, and he’s intent on capturing the Ninja so he ought to know his prey.” Before Randy could think of something to say to that, Jazz asked, “Who’s the Sorcerer?”

Randy couldn’t help it. His mouth fell open, and he gaped at her.

Jazz laughed. “Didn’t Tucker tell you? He found the name in McFist’s files.” 

Her laughter didn’t match her manner. She looked uneasy. Randy took a slow breath; none of the kids knew about the Sorcerer, except for him and Howard. And if anyone else had happened to overhear enough whenever the Sorceress turned up to work out that the Sorcerer was around and imprisoned somewhere close, he doubted they had put two and two together and figured out that he was really the one the Ninja was protecting them from.

“Beats me,” Randy managed at last.

Jazz snorted.

Randy looked at her in bewilderment.

“In case you’ve forgotten, I have a little brother,” she said, “and besides that, your earlier reaction clearly means you recognized the name. So who is he?”

“I don’t know!” Randy spread his hands and wished he was a better liar. This was worse than the time he’d tried to convince Howard there was an abandoned fudge factory at the edge of town—which McFist had conveniently managed to build by the time they’d gotten there, which would’ve been awesome if it hadn’t been turned into a giant Ninja trap. “But, just, who has a name like the Sorcerer?”

Jazz raised an eyebrow at him. “Who has a name like _Ninja_? Or _Phantom_? It’s a title that’s been taken, not a proper name.” She sat back on the bench and looked at the others. “You don’t have to pretend, you know.”

“Pretend?” Randy echoed. He was still staring at her, even if she pointedly was not looking at him.

“Danny’s not convinced,” Jazz allowed, “but I am. Especially after your reaction to what I said about McFist.”

Randy frowned. “What reaction?” Had he even said anything?

“I’ve studied human behaviour for a long time,” Jazz said quietly, “and you weren’t the slightest bit surprised that McFist was hunting down the Ninja, even when everyone else tells me the Ninja is a beloved figure in the town.”

Randy winced. “Actually….” He needed a lie. He looked down at his lap and saw the corner of the Nomicon sticking out of his bag and thought of Howard’s earlier lie. He could borrow that one. “I’m friends with the Ninja. That’s why I know. I mean, he doesn’t trust just anyone with his stuff.”

“Hmm.” He couldn’t tell if Jazz believed him. Then she said, “The Ninja’s not a ghost. The Sorcerer isn’t either, is he?”

“Uh….”

“We’re chasing after ghosts where there are none.” She wasn’t asking. “McFist was right to be looking at the students of the school.”

“Um….” Randy tried to figure out what he could say that wouldn’t incriminate him. “What, uh, makes you say that?”

Jazz finally turned to face him again. “From what Tucker told me of Viceroy’s tracker, it would never have successfully locked onto a ghost, but it certainly targeted _someone_. Just…someone’s wrong, it or me, unless….” She bit her lip. “How many of you are there?”

“Huh?”

“There has to be more than one, unless Viceroy is completely wrong.”

“One what?”

“But that doesn’t make _sense_ ,” Jazz hissed. Randy blinked; she was talking to herself now. “There should only be one cursed object.”

“Uh…do I want to ask?”

“Sorry.” Jazz still had a small frown on her face. “I just…. I thought I’d worked it out, but I don’t think I quite have.” She stopped, but Randy had a feeling she wasn’t done. Unfortunately, he was right. “Viceroy and McFist think you’re the Ninja.”

“ _What_?” He’d feared as much earlier, but then Howard had talked him out of it, and to now hear that Viceroy _also_ thought he was the Ninja, which would just back up the conclusion McFist must have come to…. This was _beyond_ bad. At least he had some warning, even if it was just a confirmation of earlier fears he’d hoped were unfounded, but what good would it do him? Now that McFist knew where to look for him—

Except he didn’t have the Ninja Mask, so he technically wasn’t the Ninja any longer. If he left the NinjaNomicon with Howard, maybe McFist would think he’d made a mistake. Hopefully. In case Randy ever got the mask back.

He’d kinda been hoping he’d see something out of the corner of his eye and find it returned by the same guy who’d dropped it off in the first place, but so far that hadn’t happened.

Jazz still hadn’t said anything; she was just watching him—reading his reactions?—and waiting for him to make the first move. Randy tried to swallow the lump in his throat but wasn’t entirely unsuccessful. “Why….” He licked his lips. “Why would they think that? And how do you know, anyway, if they do?”

“Viceroy said something about a mind reader, and McFist something about when he found you guys at the school.”

What little blood Randy had left in his face probably left it then and there. “Mind reader?” He knew they’d never captured Howard again, and besides, no one thought he’d been telling the truth about knowing the identity of the Ninja by now anyway. So what use was the mind reader? 

“That’s what I heard.”

“Wait, _heard_? Viceroy and McFist were actually talking about this in the open?”

“Not exactly. Phantom took me for an infiltration mission so we could nose around some more. They didn’t know we were there.” She paused. “They did think the Ninja was there, though.”

Randy frowned; he definitely hadn’t been there, so had someone found the mask and begun using it? Had they actually realized what it was? He’d considered that possibility before, but he’d figured if someone else _had_ found the mask and realized it was _the_ Ninja Mask, he and the rest of Norrisville would know about it. Whoever had found it definitely didn’t have the Nomicon and its warnings of silence, and no one except Howard—and apparently the Fentons—knew McFist was actually hunting down the Ninja.

Bash had soaked in the glory of being the Ninja, and Randy was pretty sure most of the kids he went to school with would remember the ‘glory’ part and not the ‘kidnapped by Robo-Apes’ part. But that was probably because no one else had seen it, and Bash hadn’t quite realized how close to non-existence he’d actually come.

“I was here the whole time,” Randy finally said. “So if McFist is crazy enough to think I’m the Ninja, well, yeah.” His laugh was a little too weak to be believed, judging by Jazz’s expression.

“I know. That’s why….” Jazz sighed. “Look, you’re going to think I’m crazy for asking you to do this, but please try to trust me. I can’t help you if I don’t have all the facts.”

“I’m not the Ninja,” Randy said. The words were painfully true now. _He was not the Ninja_. When it had been his choice to give it up to save his friendship with Howard, well, that was different. But being robbed of it because of a mistake on his part just hurt.

There was only one bright side: the Sorcerer wasn’t stanking people.

Although if Jazz was _asking_ about him….

“Facts.” Randy just stared at her for a moment, trying to remember everything she’d said so far. “Yeah, about that. Why’d you think the Sorcerer was a ghost, even for a minute, if you thought it was just a codename?”

Jazz just gave him a look. “You want to admit you know who he is now?”

Randy grunted; he’d walked into that one. “Call it a fair exchange of info, okay? I’m feeling a little lost here.”

Jazz avoided looking at him, staring instead at her hands. “We saw him. Not…not in person. I would think he’s a ghost if I didn’t know he was trying to get out from wherever he’s trapped, because I don’t know of anything here that would hold a ghost.”

“Wait, so you actually—?” That meant the Sorcerer hadn’t just stopped, then. Randy supposed it had been too much to hope for. But then why wait? He wanted to be free—and fast—and— “Wait, hold on, did McFist tell him _I_ was the Ninja?” He was so dead.

Jazz met his gaze, and her determination, her honesty, was clear in her eyes. “Yes.”

“I am so dead,” Randy muttered. This whole situation was so wonked. If he was still the Ninja, if he still had the mask and the suit and the weapons— If he did, he might have a hope. But he didn’t. Which meant he was shoobed, big time.

“Then tell me what I need to know so I can help you.”

Randy shook his head. “You don’t get it.”

“That’s my point.”

“No, I mean, I _can’t_ tell you.” He groaned and buried his face in his hands and mumbled, “I’m not the Ninja, and I’m still going to be targeted, and now I’m not going to be able to do _anything_.”

“I doubt that’s because you don’t know anything.”

Randy looked up to gape at her. “I just _met_ you. Even if I knew something, why should I tell it to _you_ when, for all I know, you’ve cut a deal with McFist and are just pretending to be friends with me so you can get to the Ninja?”

Jazz arched an eyebrow and gave him a look that clearly questioned his intelligence. “If I were, believe me, you wouldn’t even be making that accusation.”

“What?”

“I can lie with a straight face, Randy. Danny’s gotten a lot better at it, too, though most of the time he still forgets to check his tells. Look, our parents are ghost hunters, and I’m not sure how much Danny has told you, but you remember that I mentioned Phantom? I’ve been doing my very best to make sure he doesn’t get captured by my parents. How well do you think they would take it if they found out I was not only sympathetic to Phantom’s cause but actively defying them and helping him?”

“Um…not well?”

“Precisely.” Jazz just looked at him for a moment. “And how do you think I get away with it?”

“Because they’re your parents and you, um, know how to avoid them?”

“I know how to act,” Jazz corrected. “They know where I stand with Phantom, but they don’t know exactly how far I take it, how much I do. They know even less about Danny—mostly because _he_ tries to avoid them and I’m there to bear the brunt of their lectures, to take their attention off of him. It’s manipulation, in a way. It’s not pretty, but I’m not going to stop doing it. It’s my way of protecting my little brother.” The pause was a short one this time. “But you…. Who are you protecting?”

 _Myself, and…everyone else._ Randy decided to go with an answer she wouldn’t necessarily call him out on, although it was kind of scary how much she seemed to read into everything. “My friends. Just…not the way you’re probably thinking. I mean, I’m…. I don’t do that manipulation thing. It’s more that I would protect them, if I could. I just…can’t, now. How can I? I’m just a kid.”

“I doubt Danny has a year on you, and I don’t have more than two. That doesn’t mean we can’t do something.” She was quiet for a moment. “You know about Spectra, right?”

“Yeah, but—”

“And you’ve lived in Norrisville long enough to know danger, even if it’s not directly from ghosts. The thing is…. Danny and I have been targeted by ghosts before, and not just because of who our parents are. And Spectra….” Jazz trailed off. With her voice barely more than a whisper, she finished, “Spectra tried to murder me once, just so she could secure her power. She wanted to make everyone in school so broken up after my death that they’d never fully recover, and she almost succeeded.”

Randy blinked; the story sounded _very_ familiar. So, maybe…. “Is Phantom your, uh, dead brother or something?” He winced as he said it—it sounded callous—but it fit with what he’d heard so far.

To his surprise, Jazz gave him a small smile. “Something like that.” She straightened in her seat and somehow managed to effectively close that subject before Randy could pry any further. “If you won’t tell me about the Ninja,” she said in the assertive tone she’d been using before, “should I tell you?”

“Huh?”

“Look, I’m still pretty sure it’s similar to what I said before, and you might be able to correct me but I highly doubt you can deny it when you’re carrying around that book.”

Randy shifted uneasily. “Yeah, but it’s not…cursed, or whatever you said before. And it belongs to the Ninja.” Which wasn’t him anymore.

Jazz smirked. “I know. That’s my point. It belongs to the Ninja—the First Ninja, right? The First Ninja of Norrisville? He’s probably the one who locked up the Sorcerer. And there are some things of his—like that book, and I’m not sure what else—that have survived the eight hundred years or whatever it’s been since he lived.”

Randy swallowed; she was unnervingly accurate, and even if she’d been spending all her time in the library, most of that info wasn’t in there.

Jazz reached for the Nomicon, pulling it out of the bag before Randy could stop her and holding it up. “Look at this. It’s not an ordinary book. I can’t open it, and nothing appears to be keeping it locked. And look at the pages, at the cover. Nothing’s yellowed or faded or worn. It looks pretty good for something that’s been around for so long, right?”

“Uh…I guess?”

“Cursed objects can be like that,” Jazz said as she tucked the Nomicon back into place. “I suppose I shouldn’t just say cursed, because half the time they aren’t; they’re just imbued with ghostly energy.”

Randy frowned. “I thought you said the Ninja wasn’t a ghost, and it’s not like I’ve had bad luck for carrying that around. Except for, well, this thing with McFist.” What the cheese was he going to do about that? There was no way McFist was going to listen to reason, and Randy had no proof either way. The Sorcerer probably wouldn’t even find out the truth until he wasn’t freed or the new Ninja showed up or whatever happened.

“Not all cursed objects act as a physical link to this world, something that binds a ghost to it, and like I said before, not every so-called cursed object is actually cursed.” She hesitated. “Have you ever heard of the Cursed Amulet of Aragon?”

Randy stared blankly at her. “Should I have?”

“Well, no, unless you’ve been doing some heavy digging in some rather unconventional research areas.” Jazz smiled. “The amulet was considered cursed because it had the power to transform the wearer into dragon form under states of extreme emotional duress or anger. A lesser known fact is that some people can trigger the transformation by will alone.”

“Um….” Randy wasn’t sure how this was supposed to be related to the Nomicon—or anything else for that matter. “So?”

“So I’m guessing that something similar holds true here, too—and that someone who has something of the original Norrisville Ninja can be transformed into the Ninja. The conditions wouldn’t be the same, of course, and if that book _is_ something with that transformative power, the change must be entirely voluntary.”

“Uh….”

“Look, I don’t think the Ninja is a ghost, but from what I gather, he can still use powers that are _associated_ with ghosts—like throwing fireballs. But if he’s not a ghost, then the only thing that I can think of to explain his constant presence in Norrisville over so many years is something being passed down—objects like that book you claim isn’t yours but the Ninja’s.”

Randy winced.

“So, you can either tell me I’m completely wrong, or you can tell me how many objects there are and how many kids are involved, and then we’ll see about convincing McFist you aren’t the Ninja.”

‘Once the Ninja is known, he can never be unknown.’ Well, it was kinda a little late for that. McFist and Viceroy and _the Sorcerer_ knew who he was. Obviously, Jazz and Danny and Phantom and probably Tucker, even if they haven’t filled him in yet, suspected it. Sort of. And he hadn’t forgotten the earlier command not to tell anyone, either, so he’d always been careful not to slip up. 

He’d thought.

Apparently, he wasn’t as good at that as he’d believed.

When had these guys gotten here, yesterday? And Jazz had apparently figured most of it out without even _seeing_ the Ninja—or, at least, Randy didn’t remember seeing her around. Or Danny, for that matter. Or Tucker. The only one he’d tussled with was Phantom.

But instead of _doing_ something (like running from the Robo-Apes that were undoubtedly coming his way right this minute), Randy just gaped at Jazz.

The girl looked remarkably unfazed, given everything she’d just said.

And the way she met his eye, just _waiting_ for him to say something, made him doubt anything his brain could supply right now would be a halfway convincing lie.

Randy opened his mouth and started with a version of the truth he hoped he wouldn’t regret. “All I have is the book,” he began slowly. “It’s…temperamental. I dunno. It’s not alive, exactly, but it…knows things.” That sounded really lame and, if he thought about it, a little creepy, but that couldn’t be helped. “Howard told Danny no one but the Ninja could open it, but that’s not entirely true. Someone who isn’t the Ninja can, if it wants to be opened by them. And sometimes the Ninja himself can’t open it. It’s kind of got a mind of its own.”

Jazz shrugged. “The spirit of the First Ninja,” she said simply. “It makes sense. It’s a book, so it will contain knowledge useful to the current Ninja.” She hesitated. “Ninjas?”

Randy shook his head. “If you dig back far enough, there used to be more than one Ninja. I mean, way back, before First Ninja died. At least, he was the last Ninja standing, because his brothers all…. They died fighting the Sorcerer. First Ninja was the last of his clan. You’re right; he’s the one who sealed the Sorcerer in the pit under Norrisville.”

“ _Under_ —?” Jazz shook her head. “No, keep going. I’ll ask later.”

Randy pulled a face. “There isn’t much more to tell. There is one Ninja who has the sacred duty of defending the citizens of Norrisville from the forces of evil. So, the Sorcerer, mostly. And McFist is working for the Sorcerer, trying to capture the Ninja, which you already know. If they can take the Ninja down, then it’ll be a snap for the Sorcerer to get free. And, trust me, that would be bad. But I’m not the Ninja.” Not anymore, at least.

“If that’s really it and there’s only one Ninja, then why do McFist and Viceroy think _you’re_ the Ninja? They seemed awfully convinced.”

“I really don’t know.” Howard was the only one who knew he was the Ninja. “If I was the Ninja, I might have a fighting chance. As it is….” Randy spread his hands. “I’m just kinda waiting for the Robo-Apes to show up. Trust me, those guys do not mess around when they have a target. I’m kinda surprised they aren’t here already. Grateful, but surprised.”

Jazz pursed her lips. “I doubt McFist will try anything fancy when Mom and Dad are around. But, look, the solution’s easy, isn’t it? You’re friends with the Ninja. You wouldn’t have his book if you weren’t. So just make sure McFist sees you beside the Ninja and he’ll know he’s got the wrong guy.”

“Um….” Randy held up a finger. “One problem with that. I don’t actually know the Ninja’s identity. I don’t know who he is now. He could be anyone.”

Jazz looked incredulous. “You’re friends and you don’t—?” She let out a sound of exasperation. “Fine. You know what he sounds like, right? Teach Danny to mimic him. Just…make sure you have a lot of patience. Danny won’t give up, not when it’s important, but he’ll fool around if he’s bored so make sure he isn’t.”

Randy blinked at her. “What? Why?”

“It’s Plan B. If we can’t find the Ninja, Danny’s our best bet.”

Randy glanced at Jazz’s brother. “Really? What makes you say that?”

“Just trust us. If McFist really is out for your head, you don’t have a choice. We’re your best shot.”


	14. Chapter 14

“These are pretty good, Tuck. Good thing you told me to bring snacks.” Howard watched as Danny poured half a package of McSquiddles into his mouth. Amateur; he could _totally_ handle the whole thing, even if they _were_ the sour ones.

“It was my idea,” Howard said. “You’re welcome.”

“My stomach concurred,” Tucker added as he bit into the last McMeatStache. “I did not get enough free samples on that tour to last me.”

Danny grinned, but the grin faltered and fell off his face when Randy and Danny’s sister joined them. “What’s up, Jazz?” he asked warily.

“Congrats,” Jazz said flatly. “You’re going to be the Norrisville Ninja.”

Howard’s eyes went wide and he darted a look at Randy, who just shrugged. 

“Someone wanna fill me in?” Tucker asked.

Danny sighed. “Mom and Dad and apparently McFist and his entire company aren’t going to stop hunting down the Ninja until they find him. So Jazz came up with the _brilliant_ idea that I be bait.”

Tucker shuddered. “Dude, I do not envy you right now.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Howard snorted. “Seriously? _You_? You’re gonna be the Ninja?” Everyone turned look at him, and he spread his hands. “What? You’ve never even _met_ the Ninja.”

“No, but Phantom has, and he’s filled us in.” Jazz eyed Danny critically. “They both have blue eyes—wrong shade, but it’ll do in a pinch—and a similar build. If we can get Danny to sound and act like the Ninja, it won’t be too hard to pull together a costume.”

Howard stared at them. “You’re _serious_?” He turned to Randy. “What the cheese, bro? You’re gonna let him do this? That’s, like, suicide, isn’t it? What happens if he comes up against a real robot?” Sure, he’d beaten one as the Ninja, but he’d also been watching Randy do it for a while before that. He hadn’t exactly been new to the game.

“If it’s just robots, Danny won’t have a problem,” Tucker interjected. “I’ll have his back.”

“And what if it’s _not_ just robots?” Something was seriously wrong here. Randy would _never_ throw some inexperienced kid to the wolves like this. 

“We know how to fight,” Jazz answered smoothly. “And if Danny gets into a bind, Phantom can help out.”

Howard just raised an eyebrow at Randy, who was rubbing one arm and looking defeated. “Really?”

“McFist thinks I’m the Ninja.” Randy’s voice was almost inaudible. “And he told the Sorcerer.”

Howard looked at the others, and none of them seemed surprised by any of this. “Wait, you guys know about the Sorcerer?”

“I saw his name in McFist’s files,” Tucker said. “He sounds like one nasty dude.”

“He’s worse.” Danny’s face had hardened. “Look, Randy, if they’re really after you— Just don’t panic right now, okay? I get the danger you’re in, and Jazz is right. We can get you out of this. Come on, you and Howard can teach me how to act like the Ninja.” 

Howard shot Randy a disgusted look. “Act like way more of a shoob than you are, apparently.” He could not believe Randy was letting Danny do this. He’d seen Randy ready to die for him; what the cheese had happened? Sure, he’d been stupid enough to throw away the Ninja Mask, but it’s not like he’d been suddenly turned into a coward.

“Uh, just let me talk to Howard for a minute,” Randy said. “So we can get things straight and not confuse you.”

Howard let Randy drag him off, but he was fuming. “What the juice, Cunningham? You’re gonna let that kid sacrifice himself for you now? You know I never had a suit or a sword, and I never ran from this.”

Randy made a face. “You ran all the time. Or at least hid.”

“You know what I mean!” Howard hissed. “What’s gotten into you, other than you turning into a major shoob?”

“It’s not like you think,” Randy said. “It’s—”

“So you’re _not_ going to let that kid dress up and pretend to be the Ninja?”

Randy rolled his eyes. “Look, someone picked up that mask, right? If they cared enough to pick it up, they’ll have put it on, and they’ll know what it is. Something like this will draw the _real_ Ninja out, and then Danny can get out of his getup and it’ll be _fine_. Besides, Jazz assured me like a hundred times that their mom knows some kind of bruce martial arts that she’s started to teach them, they’ve been in enough ghost fights that Danny’s got good reflexes and instincts, and if Phantom’s helping, then they won’t even be able to touch Danny. Literally. I mean, I guess it’s a perk of being a ghost, that intangibility thing.”

Howard snorted. “And that’s going to help Danny how?”

“Jazz says it transfers. And Phantom can keep invisible the whole time so that no one else will even know he’s there.” Randy bit his lip. “Look, I know the idea’s bad, but Jazz has a point. If McFist sees me with the Ninja, he’ll think he got it wrong again.”

“Yeah. About that. How’d he even know it was you in the first place? I mean, how can he be _certain_ it’s you? ‘Cause you wouldn’t do this unless he was certain.”

“Jazz said she heard something about the mind reader. I dunno who else knows about me, but—” Randy froze. 

“You just remembered, didn’t you?”

“Catfish Booray.” Randy looked sick. “Man, how many times is that gonna come back to haunt me?”

“Probably not as often as Danny will if you get him killed. Seeing as ghosts are real and all.”

“Howard—”

“C’mon, Cunningham. I thought I knew you better than this. I thought _you_ knew better than this. You aren’t made by that stupid suit.”

“No, no, no, no, no, you don’t understand,” Randy said hastily. He held up his hands in a placating manner and then began listing off his fingers. “Look, once McFist sees me with the Ninja, he’ll think he was wrong again and ignore me, so I can slip away once the new Ninja shows up—maybe even before, if I can find him first. Then I just need to get that guy into the Nomicon and mind wipe him like I did with Mac Antfee before McFist blows him to bits or the Robo-Apes capture him or anything like that. That’ll be easy,” Randy added at Howard’s look, “because whoever has the mask won’t know about the Nomicon and won’t suspect anything. And then I’ll have the mask back and will be able to fight properly, and Danny will be off the hook. Phantom can cover him till then. Jazz _assured_ me of that.”

“And you _trust_ her? She doesn’t know what they’re getting into, either!”

“Phantom knows how to fight,” Randy said. “This might be kind of messed up, but I trust him. He probably could’ve taken me out ten times when I was fighting him but he pulled his punches, like I did with him. I just…. We need to move fast, and I can’t think of any other way to draw the Ninja out than to have an imposter parading around—especially not someone who doesn’t even know they shouldn’t tell everyone else who they are.”

“You’re not sure whoever has the mask is gonna come out when the fighting begins without a lure, aren’t you?”

“Not as such, no,” Randy agreed slowly, “but even with the Fentons in town, McFist isn’t going to be expecting a real ghost. The Sorcerer sure won’t be. With the advantage of surprise on our side, we’ve got this.”

Howard looked doubtful but he didn’t have any better ideas. “Fine. So I’ll coach the kid to sound like you—”

“Oh, c’mon!”

“—and you can coach him how to _act_ like you do. Because, really, we’ve been through this. You have no idea what your own voice sounds like. I’ve seen the faces you make when you hear yourself on a recording.”

“You think you sound weird when someone’s taped you, too!”

“Yeah, but _I_ know what you actually sound like. You don’t.”

Randy frowned.

“Unless you wanna go back and start asking them to spread out and look for the mask?”

Randy huffed. “Fine. But just so you know, Jazz has pieced, like, half of it together. More than. She’s figured out that the Ninja isn’t a ghost and that the Nomicon and the mask have been passed down through the generations. I mean, she doesn’t know about the mask, exactly, but she knows there’s something besides the Nomicon. And I’m not sure if she’s figured out the difference between turning into First Ninja or just the Ninja, but….” He shrugged. “It’s way more than most people have figured out.” He glanced over Howard’s shoulder at the others. “And she’s probably filling them in right now.”

“She can finish filling them in later.” Howard laced his fingers together and stretched, cracking his knuckles in the process. “We’ve got work to do if we’re gonna turn that kid into the Ninja.”

-|-

Coaching and costume-planning got called on account of supper. Frankly, Tucker was glad, even if he wasn’t going with the others. He was less glad when Jazz told him he had to make the twenty she’d given him cover both his food _and_ the rest of the things they needed for a ninja costume.

He wasn’t a seamstress, so how come he was the one who’d gotten roped into this?

Tucker shoved another handful of McMeatStaches into his mouth—he’d bought another package to tide him over—and studied the picture of the Ninja on his PDA. Danny had a mask, so that was fine. Jazz had a pair of black gloves with her that Danny could probably wear if he had to, and Randy was about his size so they could borrow black clothes from him, but the shoes were going to be hard. Frankly, it would be easier to buy a can of spray paint and have a go at Danny’s suit when he was in ghost mode. The thing was mostly black now anyway, and then the only other thing they would need would be a red scarf.

Okay, so there _was_ some red detailing on the Ninja’s suit, but Tucker’s talents lay in programming, not painting. Jazz was probably the best one of them all. Danny had a decent eye, too, after putting together all those rocket models, but he’d be busy for a while yet.

The Fenton Phone in his ear crackled to life. _“Tucker.”_ It was Danny’s voice, and he wouldn’t be talking unless it was important—and unless his parents had removed _their_ Fenton Phones already. _“McFist is here. He’s probably gonna try to nab Randy unless we can convince him he’s got something wrong. Show time’s gonna be early. Can you scrape together a costume for me by then?”_

Tucker looked at the change he had left and grimaced; he’d definitely be dipping into his own pocket money for this. “Just leave it to me. Think you guys can last half an hour?”

There was a pause. _“We’ll have to, won’t we?”_

“It’ll be fine. I’ll tell you when I’ve got the stuff and then you can sneak away and meet me. You ready for this, dude?”

_“I think I can be pretty convincing. Thanks, Tuck.”_

“I’ll see you in thirty.” Less, if he could make it, because it was go time. And even if it was costumes instead of computers, Tucker would always do this to save his friend’s skin.

-|-

Randy took another sip of water. McFist’s eyes weren’t on him, but the eye in his mechanical hand _was_. He shifted to the left. It followed. He leaned forward to put his elbows on the table. It followed. He leaned back. It followed, always swivelling to keep him in sight, no matter how slight the movement.

He was so dead.

Sure, he was lucky that he hadn’t been kidnapped by Robo-Apes yet, but he was still so dead.

To be fair, Danny didn’t do a half bad impression of the Ninja, but they hadn’t gotten far enough along in their ‘teaching’ to actually test the kid’s fighting tactics. He had never seen Phantom around, but Danny had assured him it was no problem—that if he needed Phantom, he’d show. That’s how it always was in Amity Park, and since he was hanging out here, that’s how it would be here.

Randy just hoped Danny wasn’t counting on the Ninja showing up immediately, too, because he wasn’t sure if the new guy had gotten the memo. True, if the new Ninja was worthy of the mask and actually had guts, he’d run towards the screams and not away, but he didn’t have the Nomicon. He didn’t have its advice, its wisdom. He didn’t know the difference between a smoke bomb and a Ninja Bee Ball, though it was a lesson he’d learn pretty quickly if he ever made the mistake. (Randy had.)

Out of the corner of his eye, Randy saw Danny glance at Jazz, who nodded. Danny then turned to him. “Hey, can you show me where the bathroom is?”

“Uh, sure.” This wasn’t Greg’s Food Hole, but Randy had noted all possible exits on the way in, along with promising places to hide. The bathroom, as with all bathrooms, had been high on his list of ‘places to consult the Nomicon and secretly panic’.

It had opened when they’d first gotten here, though. He’d bolted to the bathroom the minute he’d seen McFist. It wasn’t saying anything different. It was still telling him that ‘the Ninja who believes in his strength alone is the weakest of all’. He wasn’t wholly sure if he should be happy it still considered him the Ninja or worried that the message hadn’t changed.

At least he knew what that first message had meant now. ‘The reflection becomes what it is expected to be.’ In retrospect, that was dead easy. He’d been thinking Phantom was a kid working for McFist and Spectra was a normal psychologist. He’d been really, really wrong in both cases, but he’d never _really_ stopped long enough to take a step back and think about things differently until proof that his assumptions were wrong had been shoved into his face.

Seriously, he might not have had to worry about Spectra tomorrow if he’d figured out the truth sooner.

Although he wasn’t entirely sure what he could do to help _when he didn’t have the Ninja Mask_.

And that was assuming he survived tonight.

“It’s just down this hallway,” Randy said. Danny was following obediently a step behind him.

“Great.” Once they were out of the sight of their table, Danny stopped. “And is there an exit around here?”

“Yeah. Follow me and try not to be seen, and if you are seen, try to pretend you weren’t sneaking around.”

Danny smirked. “Don’t worry; I’m pretty good at that.”

Randy waited until they were standing in an alley by the dumpster before he risked speaking again. “You don’t have to do this, you know. I mean, you hardly know me. It’s not fair that you risk your life to save mine.”

Truthfully, Randy expected Danny to brush the words aside with the same confidence of invincibility Randy had had before he’d had a few close calls with Viceroy’s inventions. He expected that he’d need to protest, to pound the truth about the danger into Danny’s thick skull. Instead, the boy looked serious, completely comprehending, and way older than he had a minute ago. “I know what I’m doing, and I want to do it.”

Strangely enough, Randy believed him.

Danny touched the device in his ear. “You close, Tuck?” There was a pause. “Great. See you in a minute.”

“I can help you change and stuff, make sure you’ve got the details as close to right as you’re gonna get,” Randy offered. He was pretty sure Danny wasn’t going to do any more than pull on some dark clothes and a ski mask and wrap a scarf around his neck, but hopefully he’d look convincing at a distance.

The door behind them creaked open, and Randy and Danny both jumped. It was Jazz. With another creak, the door was mostly closed, but she kept one hand on it to stop it from shutting completely. “No, you need to get back to dinner. This isn’t going to work if you aren’t where McFist can see you and be convinced that you aren’t involved. I’ll help him.”

“Uh, but you haven’t actually _seen_ the Ninja.”

“Phantom has,” Jazz reminded him, “and Tucker and I have researched him. Besides, Tucker has pictures. If Danny can get the act down, then we’ll be fine.”

Randy might have let Jazz convince him this was a good idea and in turn convinced Howard they didn’t have any other choice, but he still had his misgivings. “Look,” he said reluctantly, “you don’t know the whole story.”

“Well, there isn’t time to hear it now.” Jazz nodded towards the entrance of the alley where Tucker was coming in, panting like he’d run a marathon. “Unless you have any last _short_ pointers, you’d best be getting back.” 

Randy sighed. “Just act confident. If you can be convincing enough, it won’t matter if you don’t act like the Ninja does every day. McFist will just assume he’s having an off day or something.” He hesitated, then added, “We had a monster drill one time at school and Howard was dressed up as the Ninja. I’m not really convinced McFist noticed it wasn’t the real Ninja until he showed up.”

Danny grinned. “Got it.”

Randy shifted on his feet. He didn’t really want to go, but Jazz had a point. “Good luck.”

“We’ve got this,” Jazz assured him.

He shouldn’t be leaving them. He should be staying to help, somehow. But he needed to convince McFist he wasn’t the Ninja. And the only way to do that was to prove he was just plain old Randy Cunningham.

“Danny said he might be a while,” Randy announced when he got back to the table. “He’s not feeling the greatest.”

“Oh, I hope he’s not coming down with something.” Maddie frowned. “Jack, maybe you should go check on him.”

Randy quickly shook his head. “No, he’s not throwing up or anything. He’ll be fine. It’s just, uh, cramps.” Those should be easy enough to fake later if necessary. “He said we should just enjoy ourselves and he’ll come out when stuff settles a bit.” McFist was staring at him, and Randy shifted under the gaze. His lies definitely still needed work, but at least Danny’s parents seemed to buy it.

It took Jazz a while to return, and she wore a curious expression on her face when she did, but she banished it almost instantly in favour of feigning wonder about how she’d beaten Danny back, and under her guidance the conversation soon returned to normal.

And when Howard started making faces at him from across the table, Randy almost smiled.

But then he remembered that they’d planned no fight, no reason for the Ninja to come in the first place, because he’d always been expecting McFist to make the first move.

Except instead of using robots to draw the Ninja out, the man had joined them for supper to keep an eye on the boy who had once been the Ninja.

Randy tried to swallow the lump in his throat and reached for some water, but he knew it was pointless. It wasn’t that easy to wash away a combination of dread and guilt and fear.

_This wasn’t going to work._

-|-

“You can’t be serious,” Danny said when Tucker pulled out the spray paint.

“If you have a better idea, I’m listening. Besides, it not like your suit won’t be back to normal the next time you change.”

“We don’t have time for anything else, Danny.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He dug the mask out of his pocket and then transformed, concentrating on keeping it in his hand instead of losing it until he reverted back to plain old Danny Fenton. “But I’m really going to have to concentrate to keep my eyes from being green now.”

“If you slip up, they’ll just think they were seeing things,” Jazz assured him.

Danny tried to ignore the rattle of the spray paint can as Tucker shook it. If he got close to anyone, the fumes were going to give him away. “I think I’ll put on the mask first. Maybe that’ll muffle some of the smell for me.”

“Suit yourself.” Tucker gave the can one last vigorous shake. “I should be able to spray this without getting it anywhere near your face.”

“Definitely putting on the mask first.” With a roll of his eyes, Danny pulled it over his head.

He hadn’t been expecting any of what happened next.

Jazz and Tucker were staring at him, both open-mouthed, and Danny had to look down at himself to be convinced that he hadn’t been imagining things, either. But the light and ribbons of cloth definitely hadn’t been his imagination. He was wearing a very different suit over top of his usual one now.

“Whoa.” Tucker was the first to speak. “Guess we won’t be needing the spray paint.”

Jazz was staring at him intently. “Take it off again,” she instructed. 

Warily, Danny reached up and pulled off the mask, and with the same flurry as it had appeared, the suit he’d been wearing vanished. He changed back to Fenton, just to test a theory, and put the mask back on again. The ninja suit reappeared.

“And someone threw this out?” Danny asked incredulously, looking down at himself.

Jazz blinked. “I don’t think they knew what it was. They certainly weren’t thinking if they did know.”

“No kidding.” Danny turned his hands over and plucked experimentally at the material. He frowned; it didn’t feel anything like his HAZMAT suit now did when he was in ghost mode. “Uh, Jazz? I’m _pretty_ sure that whatever this is, it’s not a ghost thing.”

“But—”

“But we can figure it out later, right? When we have time?” Jazz pursed her lips but nodded, and Danny struck a pose. He might have been the only one to interact with the Ninja, but they’d at least seen pictures. “So? Think I can pass as the Ninja?”

“Probably,” Tucker replied. “I mean, you’ve got his suit, and you’ve got the same build. You got one of those smoke bomb things, too?”

Danny rooted around in the pockets for a moment and pulled out a handful of balls. From his earlier encounters with the Ninja, he knew they did different things. He studied the throwing balls in his hand for a moment before shoving them back and trying a different pocket. This time, he came up with one that he was pretty sure was the right one. 

“Nice.” Tucker smiled appreciatively. “How ‘bout a sword?”

“Um….” Remembering the Ninja’s actions, Danny reached behind him. He was still somewhat surprised when he returned with a sword in his hand; for something that wasn’t obviously ghost-related, a lot of things worked the same way. “Yeah, apparently.”

“You’ll be fine, little brother.” Jazz gave him a quick kiss on the forehead that Danny didn’t squirm away from because she only got the mask. “I’d better get back. Be careful.”

Jazz disappeared, and Danny turned back to Tucker. “So? Any last comments?”

“Just one. Who’re you fighting?”

Danny blinked. “Huh?”

“Well, the Ninja isn’t any different than Phantom is back home. He only shows up when there’s a threat. So who’re you fighting?”

“Uhum….” How had they not thought of this?

Tucker burst out laughing. “I’m just ribbing you, dude. I brought firecrackers.”

Danny stared at him. “Where—how— _firecrackers_?”

“McRockets, actually, but I’m pretty sure they’re the same thing. Nabbed them off the trial table. One of the Robo-Apes saw me, but we had a little chat and he agreed it was cool.”

Danny arched an eyebrow, even though the effect was probably lost with the mask. “You reprogrammed it, you mean.”

Tucker grinned. “Yeah. Anyway, I’ll set these off in that garbage can across the street.” He hesitated. “Maybe be ready to use your ice powers in case things go south fast.”

_Or a Ninja Ice Ball_. “Got it.” Tucker raced across the street, and Danny turned invisible and got into position. It was show time.

-|-

McFist was not the only one who jumped at the first bang, and a number of people got to their feet as the racket continued. “Ghosts!” Jack Fenton exclaimed. His arms were suddenly full of weapons and he was charging out the door, his wife on his heels.

The eldest Fenton child sunk into her seat and groaned.

McFist looked suspiciously at Randy and Howard, but both teens looked bewildered, and McFist was _fairly_ sure it wasn’t an act.

There was reason to be surprised, though, because unless it really _was_ ghosts, McFist wasn’t sure what the cause had been. He and Viceroy had decided to nab the Ninja quietly so that the Fentons didn’t realize he wasn’t a ghost and that he was actually hunting down a teenager. It was all in the name of public relations, but McFist worked hard to maintain his image. He didn’t want to lose it all in the middle of a PR nightmare.

Besides, the Ninja was sitting beside him, looking a bit green.

McFist had expected him to try to sneak off by now.

But when someone cried, “It’s the Ninja!”, it was _McFist’s_ turn to turn green. Or rather, white. Because when he surreptitiously pulled the Ninja Finder receiver that he still carried out of his pocket, it was not green. Well, it wasn’t the near-constant green that it should have been, given that the Ninja was sitting less than two feet from him. It still flashed, indicating that the Ninja was _nearby_ , but the light flickered far less rapidly than McFist had hoped.

Far, _far_ less rapidly.

Wasn’t Randall Cunningham supposed to be the Ninja?

“C’mon, let’s go see him.” It was Howard. “Jazz, you haven’t seen the Ninja in action since you guys got here, have you? You need to. He’s got some bruce moves.”

Jazz rolled her eyes but got to her feet. “I really don’t need to see another ghost,” she muttered, and McFist suspected that he was the only one who had heard her. 

The three kids stood at the end of the table, hesitating. McFist grumbled but pulled out his wallet and slapped a couple of hundreds onto the table and joined them. He wanted to see the Ninja, too, after all, but he really didn’t want _that_ to be the Ninja.

The Ninja was supposed to be the kid in front of him wearing the McHoodie.

Although…. How likely was it that _the Ninja_ , who _knew_ McFist was after him, would support his company like that?

McFist pushed his way to the front of the crowd that had gathered on the street, and his heart sank into his shoes. It was the Ninja, all right. McFist would recognize that suit anywhere—and apparently so would everyone else, given that the citizens of Norrisville were cheering on the Ninja. Well, except for Randy and Howard, who were still gawking at him. McFist wasn’t really sure why, since it definitely wasn’t the first time they’d seen the Ninja and it wasn’t like it was odd for the Ninja to balance precariously on top of a fire hydrant.

The garbage can covered in ice was new, though.

The Ninja took another bow, and McFist clenched his hands into fists. He couldn’t attack him now, not in front of everyone else. The Ninja caught his eye and McFist was _sure_ he grinned, because he did some fancy flip off the hydrant and landed in front of them. The Ninja was _toying_ with him, rubbing it in his face that he’d gotten the wrong identity _again_. 

He should’ve known better than to trust Viceroy’s memory evidence. Booray could be remembering things wrong or hadn’t seen the entire thing. For all McFist knew, he’d dreamed it. Or remembered a hallucination or something. Who knew what he got into in that swamp?

The Ninja winked at Randy—it was just to spite him, McFist knew it—and turned to McFist. “My apologies, good citizen,” he said, and McFist could hear the smirk in his voice, “but the contents of that trash can were a little noisy and things were getting hot. I had to put them on ice, if you know what I mean. They needed to cool down.”

It was definitely the Ninja.

McFist glanced down at the receiver that was still in his hand. It was solid green. There was still—

McFist blinked, and he must have missed it, because the receiver was now cracked and dead in his hand. He stared at it, dumbfounded. It looked scorched on one end, but whatever the Ninja had managed to do, it had been subtle enough that no one else had noticed anything.

“Whoops,” the Ninja said. “Sorry.”

He definitely didn’t mean that.

The Ninja backflipped and landed on top of the frozen heap that was once a metal trash bin. He gave another cheery wave, another bow, and then shouted, “Smoke bomb!” and vanished in a cloud of red.

The Ninja wasn’t Randy Cunningham. 

The Ninja Finder must be a failure, despite its first apparent success, because unless _Danny Fenton_ was the Ninja or the Ninja had been hiding under a bucket in that broom closet, McFist was out of options. Especially since it was more likely that the Ninja was a ghost than the Fenton kid.

…Maybe the Fentons were right after all? 

Or maybe—more likely—Viceroy’s grand new device had had a fatal flaw. Something simple, maybe, like not being waterproof. Only not that, since Viceroy had assured him that their earlier detection of the Ninja when he was seemingly nowhere to be found in the lab had in no part been due to an equipment failure, and McFist had brought that point up in an attempt to challenge him. 

McFist turned around and bumped into Danny, who was still staring at the place where the Ninja had been seen last. McFist wasn’t even sure when he’d reappeared. “Wow,” the kid said. “Is he always like that?”

Randy and Howard looked equally startled, staring at the boy with wide eyes, but his sister had obviously invoked the sixth sense all siblings developed while growing up (it was a survival instinct) and had noticed her brother’s approach. She didn’t seem surprised at all. “Probably, the way he acts. Come on; let’s get Mom and Dad before anything else catches fire or alarms start blaring.” 

McFist made a mental note to talk to the Fenton parents. Judging by the scorched brick, they’d gotten off a couple of shots, but from where they were now, it looked like the crowd had pushed them back. Some adults of the crowd had even taken it upon themselves to berate the Fentons, it seemed, for firing on the beloved town hero.

Which was precisely why McFist hadn’t been able to touch him, a fact the Ninja had supremely enjoyed rubbing in his face.

Danny turned to follow his sister and elbow his way through to their parents, but Randy caught the boy’s arm. “How’d you get out here so fast?”

Danny shrugged. “Wasn’t that fast. I heard the noise when I was washing my hands and figured it was a ghost. And then when I heard people saying it was the Ninja, well, I wasn’t going to miss that, was I?”

“Danny,” Jazz called.

“Coming!” Danny shot them an apologetic grin. “Guess target practice is cancelled for tonight. Um, here.” He pulled out a pen from his pocket and wrote a number on the back of Randy’s hand. “This is my cell. Text me later and we’ll figure out a place to meet, and I’ll get you guys some ectoguns. You should practice some more!” He switched his gaze to McFist. “Thanks for the meal!” And then he ran off to catch up with his family.

McFist turned to stare at the two teenagers shifting on their feet that the Fentons had invited out, the two teenagers who were most definitely _not_ the Ninja.

“Um…. Yeah.” Randy gave him a weak smile. “Thanks for supper, Mr. McFist. C’mon, Howard, you wanna play Grave Puncher 10?”

The rest of the crowd dispersed as quickly as it had gathered, and McFist muttered to himself as he got out his phone. He needed to call his car, chew out Viceroy for being wrong, and figure out how the heck he was going to free the Sorcerer when they had neither a name nor a reliable Ninja Finder.

Why had he ever made that guarantee?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artwork by the brilliant [BlackInkGhost](http://blackinkghost.deviantart.com/).


	15. Chapter 15

Danny’s phone vibrated almost immediately; they’d only just gotten back to the Assault Vehicle. Jazz raised an eyebrow but Danny didn’t need to explain. “Just call them,” she said softly. “I’ll talk to Mom and Dad, then Tucker.”

Danny nodded, ignored the text he assumed was from Randy— _What the juice? Was that u????_ —and called the number back as he started walking away from his parents. It picked up on the first ring. “Hey.”

_“Was that you?”_ Definitely Randy. _“Or was that the_ real _Ninja?”_

Danny smirked. “Did it sound like the real Ninja?”

There was a long pause. _“Seriously, dude? That was_ you _? Where did you—oh, hold on, just a sec—Howard!”_ There was a lot of noise on the other end of the line and it sounded like Randy had dropped the phone.

“Uh…you still there?”

_“Howard here. We’ve got you on speaker now. So, spill. That was_ not _just clothes you guys scavenged. Where’d you get the suit?”_

“As far as I can tell, it’s like Jazz said.”

There was a longer pause than last time, and Danny was sure he could hear them breathing. Of course, considering the subject matter, they probably didn’t have the speaker on the phone up very high, so they’d be close to it. Finally, Randy said, _“You found the mask.”_

It wasn’t a question.

“Is it just the mask? The mask and that book? I mean, believe me, I _completely_ get the whole secret-keeping thing, but we gotta know. If you lied to Jazz and there _is_ someone else running around as the Ninja, we need to find out before McFist does.”

Another lengthy pause, although this time he could hear muted whispers. Finally, _“It’s just the mask. I mean, the mask, the suit, it’s the same thing. The Nomicon—the book—doesn’t, uh, change anyone like that. Not really.”_ Randy didn’t sound like he was thrilled to be telling Danny any of this. _“Howard’s going to text you my address. Meet us there tonight, okay? We really need to talk. In person. My mom’s out, so we’ll have the place to ourselves.”_

“Can I bring Jazz and Tucker?”

_“Yeah. And Phantom, I guess, if he’s around. I wanna grill you guys about Spectra and her assistant guy, too. I think he’s a new custodian or something; I saw someone besides Sundown with a mop today.”_

Danny frowned. “You’re not going to be able to stop her by yourself.”

_“Didn’t say I was going to try.”_

“Sounded like it.”

_“Just try to get here before eight if you can, okay?”_

“Okay. We’ll bring some stuff with us, too, like I said.”

_“Great. See you then.”_

By the time Danny got back to Jazz, she informed him that she’d convinced their parents that handing ‘their new friends’ ectoguns and taking them out into the field to ‘hunt down the Ninja’ was not the best plan for the evening. Jack had apparently protested this the hardest, pointing out that the only real experience was in-the-field experience, and what better time to learn than while with the country’s top ghost hunters? Jazz had countered with the simple fact that unfamiliarity with their weapons would simply mean their chances of actually getting _near_ the ghost, much less catching it, were that much smaller. It was better to give them a chance to familiarize themselves with the FentonWorks gear before being thrown into the field.

Danny didn’t really care; he was just glad she had wrangled an excuse for him to take and actually give away some of their weapons.

“We should take the Fenton Virtual Reality Helmet, too,” Jazz said, picking it up from one of the boxes in the back of the Assault Vehicle.

Danny raised an eyebrow at her. “I thought you used that to keep up your cardio.”

Jazz snorted. “Mine’s in my room at home. Mom and Dad built you one, too, when they realized how much I liked it. This one’s yours, so if you decide to give it away to better train two budding ghost hunters….”

“Gotcha.” Danny tucked it under his arm. “You arrange to meet up with Tucker already?”

“Just before you came back,” Jazz agreed. She tapped her ear. “Put your Fenton Phone back on before you forget.”

“We’re going to be together for the rest of the evening, aren’t we?”

Jazz rolled her eyes. “This is why you never have a thermos when you need it. You need to be prepared, Danny.”

With great effort on his part, Danny resisted the urge to mimic her, and he put on his Fenton Phone with only minimal grumbling. Besides, it was their best contact with Tucker at the moment. “I’ve got Randy’s address. If it’s not close enough to walk, I can fly us there. He and Howard want to talk.” He hesitated. “They, um, definitely know more about all of this than they’re saying.”

“Unless it’s on the other side of town, we’re walking.”

They both knew better than to suggest getting dropped off; Danny figured Randy’s mom wouldn’t be too impressed if she ended up with property damage.

_“Hey, guys. Once you get away from your folks, let me know and I’ll swing by and pick you up.”_

The Spectre Speeder. Danny mentally slapped himself; that was definitely the best solution. He wondered where Tucker had hidden it. “We’re moving,” he replied, ignoring Jazz’s smug smile as he talked into the Fenton Phone, “and so long as you avoid McFist Industries, you shouldn’t run into Mom and Dad.”

“We’ll wait for you by the arcade,” Jazz decided. “Greg’s Game Hole. That’ll be an easy landmark to find. I remember passing it earlier; there’s an alley nearby you’ll get the Spectre Speeder into without a problem. With the things this town apparently sees, no one’s going to question it.”

Jazz was right, and it didn’t take very long for Tucker to find them. Finding Randy’s house was proving to be more difficult, since Danny frankly had no idea where it was even with an address.

“Dude, this is why I have a PDA,” Tucker said. The Spectre Speeder itself, being designed for travel in the Ghost Zone, didn’t carry complex maps of the Real World. Apparently, Tucker had used his PDA for navigation to _get_ to Norrisville from Amity Park.

Tucker began looking it up, but Jazz just sighed and punched a few buttons on the console. _“FentonWorks items detected,”_ it chimed.

Danny raised an eyebrow at Jazz, who continued making selections until it had zeroed in one weapon located on its own—presumably the Fenton Lipstick that Randy and Howard still had. While Tucker waited for his PDA to load—he claimed that this was why he needed a new one, that it had run slower since their last run-in with Technus—Jazz took the controls and started steering the Spectre Speeder. Since she was the only one with a driver’s license, they let her. 

“It was something Mom put in when they rebuilt this,” Jazz explained as they zipped along, keeping high enough that they could fly over most of the buildings. “Apparently, there were a suspicious number of their weapons found missing, and not just the ones they’ve given to us to protect ourselves.”

Danny frowned. “But that doesn’t—”

“And they’ve seen ghosts—most notably Phantom—using their stuff.” Jazz glanced at him. “They figured if you were going to use a Fenton Thermos, they could at least use that against you and use it to track you.”

Danny pulled a face. “Geez, thanks for the heads up, Jazz.”

Jazz smiled sweetly at him. “You’re welcome.”

Danny hit her.

Tucker snorted.

Jazz pointedly ignored them both, though Danny noticed with some satisfaction that her eye twitched. He stuck his tongue out at her and she rammed on the gas, throwing him back into Tucker. He had a sneaking suspicion that that was in retaliation for the wild flight earlier.

He’d get her back later.

Jazz set them down in Randy’s backyard. Randy and Howard must have been watching for them because the back door was thrown open before they’d had a chance to make their way around to the front. Danny figured that the fact that Randy didn’t even blink at the Spectre Speeder said a _lot_ about Norrisville.

Or maybe he’d just realized that the Fentons were a particularly _weird_ family, even if he didn’t know the half of it.

“Drinks and snacks,” Randy said on the way in, pointing as they passed the kitchen table. “Grab what you want, then head upstairs to my room. Door’s open.” He didn’t wait for them, so Danny and Tucker shrugged before clearing off the table. Jazz made a face at them and just grabbed a bottle of water to tuck into the box of weapons she held before following Randy.

Randy had clearly made some small effort to clean up, if ‘cleaning up’ entailed grabbing handfuls of whatever was on the floor and shoving it wherever it would fit. Jazz wrinkled her nose but took the computer chair, setting the box at her feet. Danny and Tucker, feeling quite at home, sprawled on the floor opposite Randy, who was leaning against his bed—well, one of the posts that held up his bed, since he’d kept the top bunk of a bunk bed and ripped the bottom out for desk space. Howard was sitting by the table kitty-corner to him, leaning on the loveseat and munching on McSquiddles.

For a few long seconds, no one said anything.

“So.” Howard made an effort to swallow his mouthful before continuing. “You guys found the Ninja Mask.”

Jazz was the one to answer that, even though she hadn’t even been there. Of course, her answer was more of an accusation. “You knew about it.”

“Yeah, but apparently so did you.” Howard licked his sticky hands. “So that makes us even.”

“We didn’t know what it was!”

“You still used it.”

“Because it was Danny’s best shot at a good costume!”

“Yeah, so why would someone throw something like that out? I mean, last time I dressed up as the Ninja, I had a regular old ski mask.”

Howard’s challenge was met with silence. “Um….” Tucker raised a hand. “How do _you_ know the mask was thrown out? I mean, it was. I found it in the garbage. But for all you knew, we could’ve picked it up off the street.”

Howard glanced at Randy, who had gone rigid. “We have our ways,” he hedged.

Jazz snorted. “We need to know, you guys.” She looked pointedly at Randy. “You lied to me earlier when you said you didn’t know who the Ninja was.”

“Well….” Randy shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “It wasn’t _exactly_ a lie. I didn’t know who had the mask, and, really, if the Ninja doesn’t have his mask, how can he be the Ninja?”

Jazz’s eyes narrowed. “So you know who threw it away, then.” Danny had sat through enough of Jazz’s interrogations to know that wasn’t a question by any stretch of the imagination.

“So what if we do?” Howard cut in. “We’re not gonna tell you. You don’t need to know.”

“We _do_ need to know,” Jazz argued. “That’s the point!”

There was something eerily familiar about this argument. Danny glanced at Tucker, and from the look on his face, he recognized it, too. Danny might not have been around when Sam and Tucker had been pointedly not telling Jazz about his secret, but he’d gotten the play-by-play. They’d wanted him to know just how much she was nosing around so he would watch it. Of course, he’d gotten the warning a little late and Jazz had realized his secret anyway, but he’d been extra careful around her in the time that followed and had _thought_ they’d gotten away with it.

Couple that with the fact that Randy and Howard just so happened to be ‘friends’ with the Ninja, like Danny himself was ‘friends’ with Phantom….

“He’s not the Ninja now anyway,” Howard continued, waving Jazz off. (Danny could have told him that ignoring her protests really, _really_ didn’t work, but letting Jazz at him was one of the more effective ways of getting information.) “So it doesn’t matter.”

Danny pulled the mask out of his pocket, and he didn’t miss how Randy and Howard immediately looked at it. “Sure it does,” Danny countered while Jazz seethed quietly, “because if we know who he is, we can give it back.”

“Or,” Tucker suggested, “we can stop beating around the bush.” He looked at Randy. “Jazz figures Viceroy was right and that it’s you. Me and Danny, we really can’t figure that it’s not you, so we’re gonna go with her on this.”

Randy stared at them. He was decidedly paler than he had been a minute ago.

Danny rubbed the back of his neck. “We get the secret thing,” he said. “Really, we do.”

“Because of Phantom,” Randy croaked, and Danny froze, wondering how he could have found out. Randy glanced at Howard before facing Danny again. “Your parents don’t know, do they?”

How much had Jazz told Randy in that last little talk? How much information had she given up to get what she did? Because she had _not_ warned him about this, and by all rights, she really should have.

Or maybe Randy was much cleverer than Danny had first figured.

It was just as well, he supposed. They knew Randy’s secret, and if it came down to any fighting, being on equal footing would make things a lot easier. 

He would have appreciated some warning, though.

Although, the fact that they’d shown up without Phantom was probably what had clinched it in Randy’s mind.

“No.” Jazz was the one who answered. “And they won’t, not yet. I don’t think they’d hunt him down and rip him to pieces experimenting on him, but it is _not_ something they’re going to find out because of some stupid mistake on our part. They need be told, and they need to be told by _us_.” 

Truthfully, Danny was pretty sure that if it ever came to it, Jazz would make _him_ do the telling and she’d just be there for support. But he didn’t really want to be there by himself, so he definitely wasn’t going to argue with her on that.

Tucker straightened his glasses. “That’s not important right now,” he said. “Danny’s parents are going to find out Phantom’s in town sooner rather than later if Danny’s luck has anything to do with it, but their main focus is the same as McFist’s. They’re after the Ninja. And, dude, if it really is you, you’ve gotta know Danny’s stunt probably didn’t buy us much time.”

Randy just groaned and buried his head in his hands. That was answer enough in Danny’s book, so he tossed Randy the mask. “You might need this.”

Howard made a dive for it. “It’s not him,” he said as his fingers grasped the mask. “It’s me. He wasn’t supposed to find out, but he did.” He put on the mask, and the suit wrapped itself around him. “See?”

Neither Jazz nor Tucker had seen the Ninja in person before, but they both snorted, so Danny knew he wasn’t the only one who was beyond sceptical. “Okay,” he said, “we know what the Ninja looks like. We weren’t born yesterday.”

“You’ve got brown eyes,” Tucker pointed out. He has his PDA out and then showed it to the others. It was a picture of the Ninja. “And you’ve got the wrong build for it entirely. I mean, sure, the Ninja’s looked different over the years, but that makes sense if it’s a different person beneath the mask. And you totally don’t look like the current Ninja.”

“And we know you’ve dressed up as the Ninja before only to have to the real Ninja show up later,” Jazz added.

Howard grumbled but pulled off the mask. “Fine. Didn’t wanna be the Ninja anyway.”

“It’s okay, Howard.” Randy took the mask from his friend’s hand. He still looked nervous, but now he looked more determined than sickly. “You got me. I’m the Ninja.” And he put on the mask.

Jazz wrinkled her nose. “Ew, is it just me, or is that smell _stronger_ than it was when Howard wore the suit?”

“Oh, no, that’s just Cunningham.” Randy shoved Howard and Howard grinned. “Face it, you reek all the time.”

“You’ve just eaten too many McSquiddles!”

“We-ell, _yeah_ , but—” Howard swallowed when Randy pulled out the sword. “Hey, aren’t you supposed to defend the defenceless and all that? You don’t see _me_ carrying around a sword.”

Randy rolled his eyes and put the sword away. “It was definitely Howard,” he said as he took the mask off. He slumped back to the floor. “Was it really that easy to figure out? I mean, all you guys had was pictures, and….” He shrugged helplessly. “How close do you figure everyone else is coming to figuring it out?”

“Well, we did have a bit more than pictures,” Danny reminded him, “but you’re probably safe for a while. I mean, judging by what everyone thinks of Phantom back home, people tend to just see what they expect to see and never dig any deeper than that. But Tucker’s right; if people _are_ digging, then one instance of seeing you beside the Ninja probably isn’t going to be enough.” The time he’d split himself with the Fenton Ghost Catcher was still serving him well when it came to his parents, but chances were there would come a time when they’d clue into that—especially since they knew Phantom could duplicate himself by now.

Randy looked at him in confusion for about half a second before whatever he was thinking about clicked, and he nodded. “Two instances, actually, but yeah, I’ll watch my step with McFist. This isn’t the first time he’s gotten close to me.” He ran a hand through his hair. “So how do I deal with Spectra, then, if you guys have fought her before?”

“That where these come in.” Jazz pushed the box forward. “Ectoguns; point and shoot. Two thermoses, in case you break one, to catch and contain ghosts; just be warned that they work a lot better if you can weaken the ghost first, otherwise they might try to destroy the thermos while you’re holding it to avoid being captured.”

“For the record, it’s happened and it’s not pleasant,” Tucker added. “I had to tell my parents I dropped something Mr. and Mrs. Fenton were working on while visiting their lab, and I got grounded for two weeks.”

Danny winced; he hadn’t been able to get to Tucker in time to turn him intangible, so he’d gotten minor burns _and_ a bunch of cuts and one more serious gash for which Sam had nearly taken him to get stitches before his parents found out, even if she had to knock him out to do it, all because the thermos had exploded in his hands when the ectoblast had hit it.

Since then, they’d all been mindful of when they activated the thermos and the angle they held it at when they did, just so they didn’t give any ghosts an opportunity to repeat that. If the ectoblast hadn’t skirted the thermos’s beam, it would’ve been pulled in and more or less rendered harmless. Still, Tucker had finally agreed to let Sam put on those butterfly stitches to keep the gash on his chin closed, and they’d claimed Maddie had patched him up. Mr. and Mrs. Foley had given into their son’s pleas not to take him to a doctor because they trusted Maddie’s skills.

Danny still felt bad about that.

“…and a Virtual Reality Helmet to help with your hand-eye coordination,” Jazz finished. “It’ll probably be more useful to Howard, but it has its uses. I use mine to keep up my cardio; Danny, if he bothered to use his, would be more inclined to treat it like a video game.”

“Video game?” Randy and Howard had both perked up at the term. “What, like the Grave Puncher series?”

Danny knew for a fact Jazz had never heard of that; she barely knew about DOOMED. “More like ghost puncher,” she said, handing the helmet over. Howard grabbed it out of Randy hands, fumbled with it for a moment to turn it on, and rammed on it onto his head.

After a moment, a huge grin spread across his face. “This is the _cheese_. It’s almost as good as McFist’s 6D movie!”

“6D?” Tucker repeated. “Why have I not heard about this before?”

“We kinda destroyed the projector,” Randy admitted, “but it was so honkin’ bruce before we were getting attacked.”

Tucker’s enthusiasm drained when Randy said _attacked_. “Yeah, no thanks. I get enough of that already.”

“Look,” Danny said reluctantly, seeing that Jazz was about to tear her hair out for being unable to control the conversation, “even with this stuff, it’s not enough for you to go up against Spectra. Jazz has the Fenton Peeler, and we know that works on her. We’ll go to your school in the morning. I’ll take point and engage her while Tucker moves from flanking me to getting whichever kid is with her out of the way. Since you guys won’t sit this out, you can take over from there and get them _far_ away. Then Tucker can switch places with Jazz and take the place as the rear guard, since Bertrand will have shown up by then.”

Randy shook his head. “You are not sticking us with babysitting duties.”

Howard finally took the helmet off and tossed it back into the box. “Speak for yourself, bro. That sounds like a safe option.”

“That’s my point!”

“And mine,” Danny interrupted. “You might be the Ninja, Randy, but I’m pretty sure that whoever you fight isn’t ghosts. Correct me if I’m wrong, but do you have _any_ experience with them?”

“Okay,” Randy allowed, “so it’s mostly robots and stanked kids, but—”

“Stanked kids?” Jazz repeated. “What, exactly, is that?”

“Kids from school. That are stanked.” At Jazz’s flat look, Randy added, “By the Sorcerer.”

“And then they turn into monsters,” Howard finished. “It’s fine; we’re used to it.”

Truthfully, it sounded a bit like what Desiree could do, considering she always managed to twist the wishes she granted. He’d definitely seen his classmates turned into what could be classed as monsters—Dash, especially. Even Tucker. Danny really didn’t want to think about what it would be like if the wishing ghost had free reign. He shoved the thought away. “But if they’re not ghosts, then they’re on a completely different playing field.”

“Yeah? And what if the Sorcerer just happens to stank someone? Then you’ll need me, because there’s no way you’d know what to do.” Randy crossed his arms and just _dared_ Danny to challenge him and say he could handle it.

Danny sighed. “Fine. You stay with me, then, and Howard can get Spectra’s latest victim to safety.”

“Sounds good to me.” Howard stood up. “But I kinda promised I wouldn’t stay here all night, and I don’t wanna get grounded, so I should get going.”

“Us, too,” Jazz admitted, “or Mom and Dad might want to ask us more questions than we want to answer.”

Tucker glanced at the loveseat, then jabbed his thumb at it and asked Randy, “Hey, uh, do you think your mom would mind if I crashed on the couch tonight? It’ll be more comfortable than the Spectre Speeder, and I’m still trying to keep away from Danny’s parents.”

“No problem,” Randy said. “If you don’t want to risk the stairs in the morning, you can go out the window, but she’ll probably believe we had to do a project. She’s good like that. And despite all the running around, I haven’t exactly given her a reason to think I’m doing something I shouldn’t.”

Tucker raised his eyebrows, then shook his head. “Okay, never mind. I think I know the type. Trusting and some weird combination of overprotective but too busy to really notice stuff.” 

Randy made a face. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure the neighbours are supposed to keep an eye on me. But it’ll be fine. Worst case scenario, we say you’re a transfer student.”

“Great.” Tucker looked back at Danny. “Should I pick you guys up tomorrow?”

Danny grimaced. “Better just meet us there. I have no idea what Mom and Dad are planning.”

“Story of your life,” Tucker teased, “because even when you do know, it doesn’t work out like they think.”

“True enough,” Jazz murmured, “because this certainly won’t, either.”

It wouldn’t, because it never did. Of course, it never worked out exactly how he was expecting, either—which was not a major confidence booster for tomorrow, because Danny was sure Spectra still had something up her sleeve. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have retreated. Sure, maybe she’d just begun by trying to pit him against Randy, but after that? 

No. She and Bertrand were definitely planning something. And all Danny was sure about was that he wouldn’t like it.


	16. Chapter 16

Debbie Kang was not happy.

When Debbie had first approached her, Spectra—she didn’t deserve to be called _Doctor_ , in Debbie’s opinion—had said that she was much too busy with the needs of the students to do an interview. _“If you’re patient,”_ she’d said, smiling widely, _“we can discuss matters when it’s your turn.”_

Debbie wasn’t stupid. She’d known she wasn’t going to win an argument then and there, so she’d agreed to wait. Mostly, anyway; she’d still kept tabs on who was going and when. She couldn’t find any pattern in it, and she’d watched as an increasing number of students passed through Penelope Spectra’s office. Debbie wasn’t entirely surprised that her name hadn’t been called yet. That’s how it was done; Spectra either asked her last _patient_ to send the next one in or had an announcement made over the loudspeaker. She might’ve been able to have Heidi do it, if Heidi hadn’t flipped out and quit her job with nothing more than a sobbed, _“I can’t do this anymore!”_

Debbie hadn’t needed to have Theresa cry on her shoulder all last night to know that Spectra wasn’t doing her job.

Debbie always came to school early to polish up her latest stories before going to print—well, uploading—but she wasn’t in the head office of the Norrisville High Gazette Times Tribune Weekly Daily Press Chronicle (online edition) now.

She had the official NHGTTWDPC (online edition) notebook with her, and she was staking out Spectra’s office. 

It had been over two hours.

There was no sign of her.

Debbie was currently missing the start of first period. She didn’t mind terribly—her teachers understood her status as an editor and investigative reporter and gave her a little bit of leeway, leeway she suspected would be restricted if her grades started to slip—but that wasn’t the point. The point was, Spectra wasn’t here. And she should have been.

At this rate, she was going to have to go to Principal Slimovitz and demand answers. What were Spectra’s qualifications? Where had she been previously employed? What did _they_ think of her work? She must have given him _something_ , titles or references or anything remotely like that, to have actually been hired.

If not, Debbie’s next story was _definitely_ going to be on the poor quality control this school saw when it came to new hires. What kind of school psychologist made every student she saw _miserable_ , and how come Principal Slimovitz couldn’t _see_ that? Everyone was so dogged that Debbie wasn’t even sure a monster attack would liven them up, and that was frightening in itself.

Norrisville had a rather laissez-faire attitude towards monsters, thanks to the protection of the Ninja (and she’d figure out who it was eventually; she was crossing more and more names off her list with each encounter), but that would change pretty fast if one of the monsters managed to kill someone before the Ninja could get there in time to save them because they just didn’t _move_ when they needed to.

With a frustrated huff, Debbie sank to the floor, leaning with her back against the door to Spectra’s office.

“Marvellous.”

Debbie jerked forward and twisted around to look behind her. No artificial light shone through the window in the door, but she knew that had been Spectra’s voice. She also knew she’d been here practically since the school had been unlocked, so Spectra shouldn’t have been able to sneak past her.

“Coming here has been like spending my days at a spa. I’ll be looking young and fabulous for weeks!”

“This teen misery isn’t as pure as it should be. Don’t pretend you can’t feel the taint of it, too. Someone else has been siphoning it off, using it.”

There was someone _else_ in there with Spectra? Debbie didn’t even recognize his voice. Slowly, carefully, she reached up to twist the handle and open the door a crack to peer through it. It seemed a safer option than looking through the window.

“Psh, Bertrand, it’s not like we didn’t suspect that from the beginning.” Spectra was leaning against her desk, peering into a compact and fixing her hair, though nothing looked out of place to Debbie’s eye. “Besides, we’ve been the only ones dipping into this latest batch of nectar. You told me so yourself.”

Debbie craned her head, trying to see another angle without giving herself away. She opened the door a touch wider and blinked when she noticed the new custodian standing in the middle of the room with his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on Spectra. _They know each other?_

But they had to know each other. She wasn’t entirely convinced they weren’t speaking in code, though she had no idea why they would when they must think they were alone. How did they get in here without her noticing, anyway? They were on the second floor and the windows didn’t open, and it wasn’t like this room had another exit.

“Doesn’t mean he’ll keep the deal,” the custodian argued, “and doesn’t mean I can pretend he’s never touched them. There were only the two who were clean.”

What were they _talking_ about? It was going to drive her nuts.

Spectra snapped her compact shut and shot the custodian an exasperated look. “I kept my end of the bargain. I fed on them both, and I set the seeds to break their spirits. It really doesn’t concern me if they try to fight back and make trouble for him. I don’t intend to stay that long.”

“We should be moving now.”

“It’s only Friday morning, and I haven’t seen every kid in this school.”

“You know as well as I do that he isn’t going to wait for us to finish. You wanna fight him on top of Phantom? The halfa’s parents might not be much of a concern, but we’ll have to watch our step if his friends try to hunt us down, too.”

“Oh, it’s nothing we haven’t been through before.” Spectra’s voice was light, scolding. Debbie felt horrified, even though she wasn’t convinced she understood half of what they were really saying. “If you want to cut and run, I won’t stop you.” Spectra opened the compact again and began preening. She wanted to downplay Bertrand’s concerns—whatever they really were. Spectra kept her eyes on the tiny mirror, turning it this way and that, while her companion fumed at her display.

“We work better together,” Bertrand protested. “Do you think I’m keeping this form because I _like_ it? I’m keeping it so we can finish up here and move on without risking ourselves!”

“Oh, don’t be such a—” Spectra cut off suddenly, and Debbie froze, wide-eyed and staring, her heart in her throat. She hadn’t made a sound. She was _certain_ she hadn’t made a sound, and the logical part of her mind assured her that there was no way they could hear the wild beating of her heart. Neither of them had even glanced in her direction. It had to be fine, right? “Bertrand,” Spectra purred, “be a dear and see to that little leak, won’t you?”

The custodian made a face. “We’re leaving after this. You know we should, especially after what we found out about him. If he’s free….”

“I don’t intend to waste away here and spoil my body.” Spectra’s words were blunt. She snapped her compact shut, tucked it away, and looked pointedly at Bertrand over the rims of her glasses. “Do give me a little more credit than that. Now, that leak?”

Debbie choked as she tried to stop herself from gasping as a bright green haze rippled into existence around Bertrand, clouding his body. She nearly lost her grip on the door as his features suddenly _shifted_. She couldn’t stop the scream as his entire body blurred and melted before reforming into something more ghoulish than any monsters she had seen around Norrisville High.

She was already scrambling backwards, trying to find her feet and get away, her heart thudding in her ears and her breath coming in sharp bursts, but that _thing_ came closer and closer to her, defying gravity as it moved with inhuman speed, and then there was only darkness.

-|-

“Dude, I can’t believe I’m willingly walking into school on time when I’m on vacation.”

Danny smirked. “Technically, Tuck, you’re still skipping. Jazz and I are the ones on vacation.”

Tucker had arrived with Randy and Howard in the Spectre Speeder (they were apparently not ones to turn down free rides) and Danny had flown Jazz (nicely instead of maniacally, this time) to meet them outside Norrisville High. Even though they technically _were_ on time, they were cutting it fairly close. The warning bell had already rung, and they’d hardly cleared the main doors before the second bell had sounded and the hallways had emptied out. Since Randy and Howard were planning on skiving off their classes anyway, it was nothing to sweat about. Besides, with the three of them here, Randy and Howard had the excuse of ‘showing their cousins around’. It wouldn’t last long, but it would buy them time if they got caught.

Howard now gave them a sideways glance. “You guys have a seriously messed up idea of a vacation.”

“You have no idea,” Danny said, not surprised that Jazz had chimed it at the same time. 

“They’re Fentons,” Tucker added with a shrug as they reached the top of the stairs. “You’ve met their parents; there was no way their kids could turn out normal.”

“Hey!”

Tucker raised his eyebrows. “Even you can’t deny it, Jazz. Who tries to psychoanalyze ghosts?”

“I don’t…augh!” Jazz threw up her hands. “I am not having this argument right now. Randy—where’s Spectra’s office? Is it even on the second floor? You should be leading, not Danny. You know this school better than we do.”

“Um, just up ahead and to the right, but, uh….”

“We kinda need to change first,” Danny pointed out.

“And wait for Phantom, right? Or is he here already?” Howard turned to look behind him, past the lockers and classrooms and toward the open room of the main entrance.

Danny stopped dead. “Wait, what?” He’d thought, based on Randy’s comments yesterday, that they’d figured it out. And he was _pretty_ sure that Randy wouldn’t keep something like that from Howard. And Tucker definitely hadn’t told him that they _hadn’t_ figured it out, so nothing had come up since he and Jazz had left last night.

“Phantom,” Howard repeated, oblivious. He blinked, taking in their stares. “What, was he invisible and is now floating right behind me or something?” When they didn’t answer, he glanced over his shoulder again before continuing, with far less certainty, “You said he was a ghost, right, and ghosts can do that, can’t they?”

“Uh….” Danny couldn’t think of what to say. He’d honestly thought they knew already. He was still trying to come to terms with the fact that they _didn’t_.

Howard scratched his head. “I mean, you didn’t mention him in your plans last night, but I kinda assumed it was a given. You guys fight with him a lot, don’t you?”

Jazz and Tucker exchanged glances. “All the time,” Tucker said.

“You better take this one, little brother,” Jazz said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You need to work on the explanation anyway.”

Trust Jazz to turn this into a practice confession. Danny rolled his eyes and turned to Randy and Howard. “I’m assuming you guys don’t have some kind of security system in this school, right? No cameras or anything?”

“Uh, no.”

“Good. Then I’ll make one thing clear right now. Randy?”

Randy looked startled at being singled out, but Danny waited for him to reply. “Yeah?” The confusion was evident in his voice.

“For the record, I know _exactly_ what you’re going through.” And then Danny turned invisible.

The gaping was amusing, but Danny figured he might as well make it crystal clear, so he jumped into Tucker. They needed to work together, so there wasn’t any point in keeping his secret from these two—especially since they could obviously keep a secret, what with Randy being the Ninja, and it wasn’t like there were any ghost hunters in town besides his parents. Taking control of Tucker, Danny said, “We didn’t tell you at first, before we knew you were going through the same sort of thing here, for, well, obvious reasons. And after what you said last night, we thought you’d worked it out.” He spread Tucker’s hands. “I’m Phantom. Danny Phantom.” 

He slipped out of Tucker then, in ghost mode and completely visible, and Tucker shuddered. “Dude, stop _doing_ that. I _hate_ it when you do that.”

Howard and Randy still hadn’t closed their mouths.

Randy was the first to recover. “You’re a ghost? That’s so bruce!” Then, seeming to remember himself, “Uh, except for the dying part….”

Danny made a face, settled to the floor, and changed back to Fenton. “I’m not really dead. It’s…. I dunno, it’s complicated. I don’t pretend to understand exactly what happened.”

“He got dared to go into his parents’ Ghost Portal, turned it on, and got zapped,” Tucker said. “Lab accident. Gave him ghost powers. You should’ve seen him at the start. His pants kept falling down when his belt went intangible. It was hilarious.”

“Tucker!”

“The best time was when it happened when he was asking out the hottest girl in school on a date.”

Danny was sure his face was bright red. “ _Tucker_!”

“And then he—”

“ _Tucker_ ….” Danny growled, and he was sure his eyes flashed green. Tucker blanched.

“Uh, yeah. Long story. _Amusing_ story, but, uh, long. Now’s not the best time.”

“But that’s why Danny’s taking the lead,” Jazz said, smoothly stepping in. “He has the most experience fighting ghosts out of all of us, because Phantom is to Amity Park what the Ninja is to Norrisville.”

Howard scrunched up his face. “What?”

Danny resisted the urge to face palm. Barely. “Jazz, just…don’t. Remember who you’re talking to, okay? _Not_ your intellectual peers.”

Jazz rolled her eyes. “They both protect their town. So if you two work together instead of against each other, it should work fairly well, You’ve only fought once, but you seem smart enough to pick up on each other’s fighting styles.”

“Gee, thanks, Jazz.” He was pretty sure she didn’t actually mean to be so condescending, but there were days…. “Though, as far as fighting goes,” he said, turning to Randy, “you really gotta stop announcing your attacks. I mean, aren’t ninjas supposed to be known for stealth and the element of surprise and all that? Yelling out what you’re about to do really blows it.”

“I don’t _always_ do it,” Randy muttered. “It just…helps me focus.”

“And gives your enemy time to prepare. Seriously, there’s this one ghost back home, Technus, who does it all the time. All I need to do is get him ranting about how he’s going to try to take over the world this time and by the time he’s done Tucker’s foiled his plans with a virus.”

“Technogeek versus technology ghost,” Tucker added. “It’s 57 and counting to zero.”

Jazz raised an eyebrow. “You’re actually counting?”

Tucker opened his mouth, but he never got a chance to respond. The scream had them all running down the hallway (Danny had a passing thought of how that couldn’t be a normal reaction, running _toward_ someone screeching like a banshee), but it cut off abruptly before they even rounded the corner.

Danny transformed and flew ahead—running was _too slow_ —but the only sight that greeted him was a dazed teenager who looked entirely too much like she’d just been in a session with Spectra.

Which was entirely possible, given that his ghost sense had gone off twice—just now and when they’d first gotten into the school.

Then again, it was a girl, and that had _probably_ been a girl shrieking. He couldn’t be certain—Dash could sound like a girl shrieking—but considering she was the only one around….

“Smoke bomb!” 

Danny covered his mouth and tried not to gag as Randy appeared next to him. Fortunately, the smoke dissipated quickly, though the smell lingered longer than the red-tinged cloud. “Debbie?” Randy called, waving a hand in front of her face. At least it was someone he knew, and presumably someone the Ninja knew. “Debbie!”

She blinked. “N…Ninja?”

For a moment, Danny wondered why no one here, like no one back home, had ever thought to match the voice of a kid in school—possibly even a classmate—with the town hero. It was kinda pathetic.

Then again, it hadn’t clicked with him that Randy was the Ninja, either, because he’d initially been assuming that the Ninja was a ghost. People’s assumptions seriously wreaked havoc with how much they could figure out about what should have been obvious.

“Debbie,” Randy repeated again, with deliberate slowness, “what happened?”

There was a long pause. “I saw a spider. I hate spiders.”

_Girls_. 

Howard, Jazz, and Tucker sprinted down the homestretch. Howard was still looking behind them, and Danny realized they weren’t really far from Spectra’s office. Maybe Debbie had actually seen a huge green spider that was Bertrand in disguise. He couldn’t afford to assume it had just been an ordinary spider with Bertrand around. “Howard,” Danny said, shifting his gaze to look pointedly at Debbie.

“R…right.” Howard was still trying to catch his breath. “Hey, Debbie, c’mon.” He took another few gulps of air. “We’re late for class.”

“Class,” she repeated. She seemed _really_ shaken up for someone who had just seen a spider, even for someone who’d just come out of one of Spectra’s sessions—

But school had barely started. Surely she hadn’t _really_ been in one of Spectra’s sessions this early—or at least finished one so quickly.

“Wait,” Danny said slowly, but Debbie was already obediently following Howard down the hall.

“What?” Randy asked.

“She didn’t seem surprised to see you, Danny,” Jazz answered with a look at him, “even though she shouldn’t know who you are.”

Danny hadn’t even _realized_ that. “Oh, great.” What if she wasn’t just dazed because of Spectra’s session, assuming she’d even had one? He didn’t know her well enough to tell if she was overshadowed or anything like that, and he hadn’t been paying enough attention to remember if she’d had any of the usual tells. “Tucker—”

“I’m on it, man.” With a mock salute, Tucker turned and jogged to catch up to Howard and Debbie.

Tucker didn’t have anything with him that would extract a ghost if Debbie _was_ being overshadowed, but besides his PDA and among all the weapons he did have, he had a pair of Fenton Cuffs that would at least _keep_ the ghost—Spectra or Bertrand, he should find out pretty soon—restrained. Ever since Danny’s parents had added some kind of ecto-dampener to the cuffs, a ghost couldn’t do so much as turn invisible, let alone power up a ghost ray.

Jazz charged up the Fenton Peeler—she, obviously, was thinking they still had to face Spectra—and Randy blinked in surprise as she suit encased her. “Ready when you are,” she said.

Danny glanced at Randy, who nodded. They’d probably already lost their element of surprise; they really weren’t far from Spectra’s office, and the hallway was still quiet (which definitely said something about Norrisville, if a scream like that didn’t even bring teachers out of their classroom—unless it had and they hadn’t spotted anything troublesome and had resumed teaching already, but still). Chances were good that Spectra wasn’t in her office anymore, if she ever had been.

But if she was there, she’d be ready for them.

Well, he’d be ready for her, too. 

Danny let an ectoblast grow in his hand, ready to hurl, and then he charged, Randy and Jazz on his heels.

-|-

The door to Spectra’s office was open, but it was dark in there. Randy stopped just inside, blinking and trying to figure out _how_ it was so dark in here, only to have Jazz grab him and tug him to the side. Something exploded where he’d been standing a moment before.

“You were stupid not to run,” taunted Danny. Randy looked up just in time to see Danny blast a shadow hovering by the ceiling with that bright green laser ray of his—which was _really_ cool, but Randy had a feeling he really didn’t want to know the details about this lab accident. ‘Got zapped’ was probably a _major_ understatement. Finding a briefcase in your room with the NinjaNomicon and the Ninja Mask in it was _way_ better.

The Shadow laughed, as if this had been part of the plan all along. Randy knew it had to be Spectra from what he’d seen in the Nomicon earlier, but actually seeing the Shadow in person was different. Coupled with that creepy laughter…. He got a bad feeling about this.

“Was I? There is very little you can do. A creepy little boy with creepy little powers, a helpless older sister who’s completely unable to protect the people she cares about, and—” red eyes flicked to Randy and purple lips curved into a smile “—a reckless little boy who’s playing at being more than he is.”

Randy wondered what could hurt her, because right now he kinda had the feeling she was right. He’d bitten off a bit more than he could chew with her. The Sorcerer…. The Sorcerer was bad news, but at least Randy knew how he operated.

Randy had been under the impression that the Fenton Peeler thing Jazz had would be the thing to take Spectra down, but she hadn’t taken a shot, and he wondered if Spectra had more advantages in this form than he knew.

It certainly seemed that way.

As it was, he probably didn’t have anything in his arsenal that would serve as anything more than a distraction—if that.

What had he been thinking?

“Snap out of it,” Jazz hissed, giving him a kick to the shin that hurt a lot more with her metal boot. “You can’t let her get to you. You can’t listen to her.”

Randy blinked. Danny had pushed the Shadow into a corner, but given what he’d learned about ghosts, that didn’t mean much. Sure enough, the Shadow disappeared with a smile, and Danny growled in frustration. Without missing a beat, he swooped down to grab both Randy and Jazz by the arms. Randy hardly had time to contemplate the weird feeling that swept over him before Danny pulled them both through the wall.

“You should have a better chance at a clear shot out here,” Danny said once they were standing in the schoolyard. Randy wasn’t sure who he was talking to—likely Jazz, given that all he had in terms of ghost hunting weapons was one of those laser-shooting lipstick tubes and a thermos—but either way he wasn’t convinced more space was a good idea. It gave them all more room to move, true, but there was absolutely nothing to stop the Shadow from slipping back inside the school.

Well, nothing except them, and Randy had more confidence in the Fenton kids than in himself at the moment.

“She’s fast in this form,” Jazz murmured. “See if you can pin her so I can get in a good shot.”

“Easier said than done, Jazz.”

“I can be the bait,” Randy said, the words out of his mouth before he even realized he was saying them. “If she has a target—”

“Too dangerous,” Jazz said immediately, and Danny nodded in agreement.

“We’ll just beat her up the old fashioned way. Power still good on the Peeler, Jazz?”

“Shouldn’t drop for a while yet.”

“Great.” Danny blasted the Shadow with those lasers— _ectoblasts_ , Randy finally remembered—and frowned when the Shadow’s form moved to avoid it, flowing like water around the blast. “Hey, no fair. You guys are supposed to hate light.”

The Shadow bared her teeth. “Don’t compare me to that pitiful little sidekick of the motorcyclist wannabe,” she growled. “That Shadow isn’t fit to lie at my feet!”

“You don’t have feet,” Danny retorted. His eyes turned an icy blue, and Randy knew what was coming next. The blast of frigid air—which nicely coated a tree but didn’t do much to harm the Shadow because she avoided it—gave Randy an idea. 

If there _was_ anything to this shadow-hating-light thing, ice wasn’t the element to be shooting with. Fire was _infinitely_ better. Besides, he’d fought ectoplasm with fire before. Well, lava, but close enough. Randy ran forward, gathering power for a fiery blast as he did, feeling the Tengu’s power activate within the suit. Danny had warned him about announcing his attacks but, pfft, whatever. It wasn’t as if the Shadow wasn’t gonna see this coming. “Ninja Tengu Fireball!”

He was attacking from the left, and Danny zipped over to the Shadow’s right with a barrage of ectoblasts. She flew up, hoping to avoid them both, and only barely managed to swerve to avoid the bombardment from Jazz’s Fenton Peeler.

Randy liked this ghost fighting thing a lot better when the ghosts were actually on the run. “Ninja Air Fist!”

Danny was right; they _did_ have a lot more room to manoeuvre out here. 

The Shadow didn’t have time to avoid Randy’s attack, didn’t try going intangible (maybe it just worked with solid objects?), and Danny came at her from behind with a _real_ punch delivered by a glowing green fist. If Danny hadn’t been in the way, Jazz might’ve been able to get her now, but they’d drilled home how important it was to weaken a ghost, anyway, so he supposed it didn’t make too much of a difference—although the Fenton Peeler thing would probably weaken her the most. Randy wasn’t entirely sure what it did, but it definitely looked like it packed a punch, judging by what it had shot out earlier.

The need for a protective suit was also a dead giveaway.

The Fenton Phone Tucker had given him earlier suddenly crackled to life, and Randy was so startled his last attack—“Ninja Throwing Stars!”—went wide. He wasn’t sure they would’ve made much of a difference, given the whole intangibility thing, but Tucker had said there was some stuff he could get from the Fentons to coat them with so ghosts couldn’t just go intangible to avoid them. If this ever happened again, he could at least be better prepared.

_“Sorry, guys, Bertrand’s heading your way. He played possum until I pulled out the cuffs and then he jumped me.”_

“Crud.” Danny aborted his last attack and flew up as a lookout. “I can’t see—”

The Shadow _pounced_ , ramming into him and slamming them both into the ice-covered tree, shattering it to pieces with an ear-splitting _crack_. Danny struggled, but the Shadow didn’t let him go, and from Jazz’s expression, Randy could guess why: Jazz couldn’t do anything that wouldn’t hit and harm Danny.

“Copy that, Tuck,” Jazz answered. “We’ll keep our eyes peeled.”

_“He’s shifted—went all ninja on us. Howard’s going to have a nasty lump tomorrow, and I probably will, too. He’s taking care of Debbie, though. She seems kinda out of it right now, but she’ll shake it off like every overshadowed person does. She’ll be fine.”_

“Better than us, most likely,” Jazz muttered, still not taking her eyes off the struggle between Danny and the Shadow. “Randy, any chance you can split them up before Bertrand gets here? We need to finish this _fast_.”

Randy nodded and sprinted towards the two ghosts—not that he’d do much good if they went intangible on him—but only got halfway there before he saw a flash of green out of the corner of his eye and he went flying. He got to his feet as quickly as he could, avoiding the sharp shards of ice and wood, and turned to see a bright green ninja ducking Jazz’s blasts and nailing her with a nasty kick like the one that had knocked Randy down.

“What the juice are you supposed to be?” Randy exclaimed. A ninja. Okay. Sure. He got that. But—why _bright green_?

Jazz’s suit had partially retracted when she’d collided with the school wall, and she didn’t get up. The suit had probably protected her from the worst of it, but Randy had a feeling that Fenton Peeler thing wasn’t going to work too well anytime soon. And Jazz…. Well, she seemed tough, and he didn’t even want to consider the possibility that he’d just witnessed her death, so he was going to go with _knocked unconscious_ and call it good for now. 

Besides, the Ninja-wannabe was spinning his nunchaku with deadly ease, and Randy reached to pull out his own pair, for as much good as it would do him. He hadn’t had to fight a ninja since NomiRandy had gotten out and stolen his body, going full no-Nomicon, but he had a feeling this might be more like the time he’d had to fight Mac Antfee in the Nomicon. 

Mostly because it meant he had no idea what the guy in front of him could do and most of the rules of the real world didn’t seem to apply.

“It’s over,” the Shadow hissed from behind him. Randy didn’t take his eyes off the ninja in front of him to see how Danny was doing; he had to trust that he had everything under control. Danny had fought her before, after all. From what he’d boasted to Randy the first time they’d met, he’d fought this ninja before, too. And Tucker was undoubtedly on his way, the backup they’d definitely need now that Jazz was out of the picture.

There was a grunt and a strangled cry from behind him. “Speak for yourself,” Danny rasped.

The Shadow chuckled. “It’s already begun. You can’t do anything now. You’re _helpless_.”

And when the screaming started, Randy couldn’t help but wonder if she was right.


	17. Chapter 17

“What are we going to do?” McFist moaned. “We should have had him, Viceroy! Your machine is _broken_.”

Viceroy sniffed. “Both the mind reader and the Ninja Finder are in perfect condition, sir. The only thing that is broken is your receiver. If Randy Cunningham isn’t the Ninja, then it’s Booray who’s mistaken, not my machine. Either he’s remembering wrong or the Ninja managed to fool him back there, too.”

“The Ninja Finder can’t be in perfect condition!” McFist snapped. “It told me that the Ninja was in that janitor’s closet!”

“So perhaps he was and you just didn’t see him, sir.”

“I would have seen him!”

“But you did say it was working perfectly well at the restaurant, sir,” Viceroy reminded him, “and that it detected the Ninja’s presence outside?”

McFist grumbled to himself. That was true enough, though he wished it weren’t. 

“Perhaps….” Viceroy hesitated. “The Ninja knows we’re on to him, undoubtedly, or he wouldn’t have made a big show to prove that we were after the wrong person again. Perhaps he’s formed an alliance because we were getting too close to him.”

McFist frowned. “Alliance?” he repeated.

“We know Danny Phantom is here,” Viceroy said simply. “We know the Fentons tracked a ghost—which they mistakenly thought was the Ninja—to that closet in the school, and we know that your receiver indicated that the Ninja was present, even though we now know he is not one of the three boys you saw. The logical conclusion is that both the Ninja _and_ Phantom were there, and the Ninja realized your conclusions about his identity and sought to correct them at the restaurant.”

It made sense, even though McFist didn’t want to admit that. “The Fentons had that foamer of theirs. Doused the whole place.”

Viceroy straightened his glasses. “We know that the Ninja and the ghost—presumably Phantom—were there to begin with, but from what the Fentons tell us about ghosts, it would have been an easy enough matter for them to leave without your realizing it. I doubt Phantom would stick around when faced with armed ghost hunters, and the Ninja certainly wouldn’t want to give you a chance to capture him.”

Invisibility and intangibility, and those abilities transferable to whatever (or whomever) a ghost touched. Ghost hunting must be as difficult as Ninja hunting, though for different reasons. “Fine. So the Ninja and Phantom are working together. Doesn’t help us _catch_ the Ninja, and we have less than twelve hours left!”

“Oh, but it does,” Viceroy countered. “We let it slip to the Fentons that Phantom is in town, and if they catch him for us, then the Ninja will be obliged to free him. A ghost can’t escape the hunter’s weapons, and once we know where the Ninja will show up—”

“We catch him!” McFist concluded. “It’s brilliant! Best idea I’ve had!”

“Sir—”

Viceroy’s annoyance was clear, but McFist ignored that. “Start implementing my plan right away, Viceroy! Inform the Fentons!”

“It was _my_ plan,” Viceroy muttered, but he went to work all the same. McFist decided to be thankful his right hand man was at least obedient.

His personal phone rang, and McFist snatched up the receiver. “What?” he demanded.

_“Your wife is on line one, Mr. McFist,”_ the Robo-Ape receptionist said. _“Would you like me to put her through?”_

_No._ “Yes,” McFist answered, already having a sinking feeling. What could Marci want now? He’d agreed to be home for tonight’s dinner, agreed to make sure _Bash_ was home for tonight’s dinner, and left her in charge of deciding the menu with the head of his catering division. What more was he supposed to do? Dinner parties weren’t really his thing.

At all.

“Hello, honey,” he tried, hoping she wasn’t about to scream his ear off. The Robo-Ape hadn’t warned him that she was in a bad mood, but they didn’t always, unless he asked.

_“Hannibal, I’m so glad I caught you.”_ She sounded pleasant, but he knew it could easily be put on. This wasn’t necessarily going to be good news. _“Our guests are going to arrive early, sometime mid-afternoon. You’ll be here to greet them, won’t you?”_

He hated dinner parties. He hated this obligatory socializing. This was Marci’s thing, not his. “Uh, I’m going to be a little bit busy—“

_“You’re going to wear that great big smile of yours, aren’t you, and be my Happy Hanni?”_

The threat was beginning to creep into her tone. McFist swallowed nervously. “Look, the Ninja—”

_“The Ninja will still be here when our guests are gone,”_ Marci reminded him, her pleasant tone not entirely covering up the threat in her voice. _“We want to make a good impression, don’t we? A_ big _good impression? Think of Bash’s future.”_

Any good this might do _Bash’s future_ would come immediately undone the moment Bash opened his mouth or simply began to act like himself. Marci made her excuses, but McFist knew his stepson was a bit of an idiot. Of course, he’d met countless spoiled brats and drama queens whenever Marci arranged these _private dinner parties_ as little _get-to-know-yous_ for Bash and other children his age—specifically girls. Specifically, girls from wealthy families, ones who fit the status quo. 

He supposed he should be thankful Marci hadn’t found any suitable candidates at these things to try to set something up, to push Bash in a particular direction. McFist didn’t pay too much attention to it, but he knew Bash had some idea of what Marci expected of him—that’s why he just dated the pretty, popular girls in school. McFist couldn’t remember any of them offhand, but the point was that Marci’s idea of status wasn’t completely lost on her son, who understood enough of it to succeed socially in high school.

Well.

There was the bullying issue.

And his grades were another matter entirely.

Frankly, McFist wasn’t sure anyone who agreed to Marci’s little get-togethers would see his stepson as a catch for their daughter. But then again, he wasn’t sure how many families who agreed to these things had daughters they were trying to pawn off on an unsuspecting family, either, hoping that if the children got to know each other, something would just _click_ and go from there.

“Marci….” McFist trailed off, wondering what he could say that wouldn’t get him into trouble. _Probably nothing._ “I’d love to, it’s just the Sorcerer—”

_“We arranged this meeting weeks ago, Hannibal.”_ The warning in Marci’s voice was unmistakeable. _“You don’t mean to tell me you made other plans.”_

“Well, uh….”

_“I’ll see you at twelve o’clock. Don’t be late.”_

“You said _mid-afternoon_!” It wasn’t much, but he had to cling to anything he could.

_“And showing up early would be the perfect way of testing us, of trying to catch us unprepared, so we must be ready for them. And you must be here to greet them.”_

How was he going to get out of this? “Marci, I can’t—”

_“—afford not to be here, that’s right. You can come as early as you like. I’m going to pick up Bashford from school now, so be a dear and tie up whatever you need to this morning.”_

Marci hung up before McFist could think of what to say to that, and he was left listening to the dial tone for at least five seconds before he came to his senses.

Marci _knew_ about the Sorcerer, the Ninja, everything. She knew about his deal. She knew he couldn’t afford to make the Sorcerer angry—well, angrier than usual, in case anything ever went terribly wrong. (McFist didn’t know what was going to happen to him if the Sorcerer got out with someone _else_ ’s help.) Yet Marci _still_ deemed these insignificant gatherings to be a higher priority than anything else. 

At least the Fentons already knew he had plans for tonight. Jack and Maddie might be a little obsessive when it came to their pet projects, but McFist knew people like that. In a way, he was a bit like that himself. And the Fentons were very understanding, much more so than the Sorcerer. They would understand when he told them any further arrangements they might have made today now had to be postponed.

Considering Viceroy should have already informed them Phantom was in town, McFist was sure they wouldn’t mind terribly.

But still. He’d been out with them on a ghost hunt. Their equipment might be able to _hold_ Phantom, but McFist wasn’t completely sold on the idea that it could _catch_ him. And that was an undeniably critical part of their plan.

McFist might not be thrilled to think that Phantom and the Ninja were working together, but he’d happily exploit that. If they captured Phantom, the Ninja should—would; the guy clearly had morals, considering how he kept throwing himself in front of McFist whenever they got his identity wrong—show up to save him. And from what Viceroy had dug up on Phantom, the ghost would probably do the same. The Ninja Finder _was_ technically still working, even though his receiver was fried; maybe they could force the two out from wherever they were hiding by putting the other in a position of danger.

He could send out some Robo-Apes to track the Ninja (again), put Viceroy on it to make sure they didn’t get out of line (like the last few times), and still pretend everything was normal when Marci’s guests arrived. Meanwhile, with the Fentons after Phantom, someone was bound to get close to their target, and if Viceroy was right about this alliance, it would force all of them out of hiding, making the final capture infinitely easier. And then he’d actually have the Ninja when the Sorcerer called on him again.

McFist really didn’t have any better ideas, and he _really_ didn’t want to face the Sorcerer empty-handed. Not again. Not after he’d _guaranteed_ it (again). There were some things he wasn’t sure he’d survive twice.

-|-

“You good, Debbie?”

Debbie blinked; why was Howard talking to her? And where was everyone else? “What…what happened?” A quick glance down at herself didn’t reveal torn clothes—thankfully—so chances were she hadn’t become the latest monster to terrorize the school. That being said, it sure _felt_ like she had.

Granted, the level of destruction around them was quite small—borderline nonexistent—for that to have been the case.

“Ghosts.” Howard held out a hand to help her up.

“Ghosts,” Debbie repeated, letting the scepticism leak heavily into her voice. She ignored his hand and got to her feet, muttering. “Why do I even ask?”

Howard shrugged, hand dropping easily back to his side. “Suit yourself, but it’s the truth this time. Tuck just ran off chasing it.”

“Tuck?” She shouldn’t ask, but she was curious. Howard wasn’t usually the one to know things—at least, not after the time he’d claimed to know who the Ninja was, but it had turned out that he’d made that up, anyway.

Hadn’t he?

Or was his seeming knowledge now just proof that he’d merely _covered_ it up?

Okay, considering this was Howard, that was a real stretch, even for her.

“Tucker. New kid, except not. He’s apparently pretty up on this whole ghost thing and just happens to be in town for a visit, with some friends who are _also_ really into the whole ghost thing. From what I hear, they’re outside with the Ninja fighting those ghosts right now.”

Debbie was pretty sure Howard could read her expression, but then again, it was Howard. She rolled her eyes, still not convinced he wasn’t just making things up. “Whatever.” She glanced down at her watch before looking up at him. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“I got out on ghost hunting duty.”

Debbie snorted. “Which is why you’re here now, far away from your ghosts.” Howard wasn’t the type of person to keep secrets that were worth uncovering, so she’d let this slide. But if there was any truth in his words, if the Ninja _was_ out there, maybe she could cross another student off her list. It wouldn’t kill her to play along.

“Hey, my job was to get you out of harm’s way. Job’s done.” Howard looked smug. “Now how about—”

The scream cut Howard off, and Debbie froze. “That sounded like Theresa!” Theresa had debated not even coming in to school today, and her parents really might have let her stay home because she never seemed to get into this much of a funk, but in the end she’d decided to come because Debbie would be there if she needed a shoulder to cry on. Debbie, who knew. Debbie, who understood as much as anyone was going to understand.

But now Debbie was definitely not with Theresa, and it sounded like Theresa was in trouble. 

She started running, slowing only when she realized Howard wasn’t with her. She wasn’t sure why she had expected him to be, but she stopped and looked back at him. “Aren’t you coming?”

“Um…do I really have to?”

If Debbie hadn’t already been twenty feet from him, she would’ve punched him. “You were playing the hero earlier, weren’t you? Your job’s not done.”

Howard heaved a sigh. “ _Fine._ But only because I know the Ninja’s busy. I would totally be better off running to tell him, though. This whole saving-people thing ain’t my job. I really don’t envy the Ninja.” He said it with the tone of someone who had once been envious but now knew better.

Truthfully, Debbie would’ve thought Howard was still caught up in all the glory the Ninja got. It was beyond rare that he ever thought critically about something like this. “If you’re so sure you know where the Ninja is, then go get him. I can handle this.” She wasn’t really sure she could, but if Theresa was in trouble, then she was going to try.

Howard looked relieved. “Great! Thanks. I’ll, um, let the Ninja know. Don’t get yourself, y’know, sta—uh, monsterfied in the meantime.”

He was just going to let her go like that?

Howard turned and headed off down the hallway, like he really was going to go outside to talk to the Ninja, like he really did know where to find him—or maybe even really knew who he was.

But still. He wasn’t even going to argue with her.

_Boys_. If she survived this, she’d kill him. While she wouldn’t have been impressed if he’d insulted her capabilities, saying she couldn’t handle this because she was a _girl_ , a little chivalry would’ve been nice. Even him agreeing to go with her, just so she had backup.

Debbie let out a frustrated huff and jogged toward the commotion. She knew what class Theresa was in, and sure enough, the door to that room had been ripped off its hinges. Debbie slowed her pace before stopping altogether, wondering what she could do. Were there still kids hiding in the classroom, or had the monster gotten out, or—?

“ _It should be MINE_!” 

Debbie froze before slowly turning her head. Flute Girl—no one called her by her real name, not even the teachers—was farther down the next hallway, heading for the band room. She wasn’t exactly herself at this point, but Debbie recognized her voice despite its warping, and with all the Ninja-chasing she’d been doing, she’d gotten a better handle on which kids looked like which monsters. At least, she knew the ones who had been turned most often.

They were all faces on her board with Xs through them.

Debbie edged toward the classroom, hoping whatever Flute Girl was after would hold her attention. Peeking inside, Debbie saw the initial destruction—toppled desks, papers everywhere, cracked chalkboard from where a desk had been thrown at it, various other broken pieces of this and that—and, looking closer, some students huddling under the back tables. 

But where was… _there_. “Theresa!”

“D-Debbie?” The girl was the first—and only, if Debbie were to guess—to leave the makeshift sanctuary. Not that it was much of a sanctuary. “Has the Ninja come yet?”

Debbie shook her head. “No.”

Theresa’s face crumbled. “He’s not going to come, is he?”

Debbie took one look at the faces of the other kids and knew that if Theresa broke down, the rest of them would, too. And she really didn’t want to deal with that right now. Besides, Debbie had trailed after the Ninja enough to be confident that he always showed up. He might be late, but he always showed. “Sure he is. He always does. You know that.”

“But…but what if we really need him, and he doesn’t come? And what if….” Theresa trailed off and sniffled. Debbie knew what was coming, the fears that might pour out of the girl if given the chance.

Debbie took her friend by the shoulders. “Everything’s going to be fine,” she said, if only because she wasn’t confident that Flute Girl wouldn’t come back if loud sobbing broke out. “Now come on.” She hesitated, then added in a low voice, “I think I saw Randy out there.”

It was a complete lie. Debbie might not understand Theresa’s crush—the guy was an idiot, just like his best friend—but she respected her friend enough to not (constantly) tease her about it. Still, the danger of rampaging monsters was always real, and Debbie felt more confident when she wasn’t in a confined space. So, she wasn’t entirely above using Theresa’s crush to get her to _move_ when her life might very well depend upon it.

If the Ninja wasn’t going to show up until Howard went and got him because he was busy fighting off another monster or ghosts or whatever, then this could be a while.

Debbie dragged Theresa from the classroom before the other girl could form an argument. She wasn’t sure where the teacher was—probably keeping tabs on Flute Girl from a distance, waiting for help to show up—but chances were that the other kids would be fine. 

Still, she planned on tracking down the Ninja and she didn’t really want to do it alone, and she didn’t feel like leaving Theresa by herself after that last scream because she was _not_ in shape to handle a situation like this. A monster attack was bad enough; a monster attack when you couldn’t even think straight was worse.

“You were just trying to cheer me up, weren’t you?” Theresa’s voice was very soft, but it made Debbie stop in her tracks.

She reluctantly turned to face her friend. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

Theresa gave a funny sort of half shrug. “I guess. I just…. Be honest, Debbie. Do you think I have a chance?”

Debbie raised an eyebrow. “A chance at what?” She knew the answer, what Theresa was really asking, but still. Maybe making her say it out loud would help her to snap out of it. Debbie didn’t really know the first thing about psychology, but she was willing to give anything a shot at this point. Theresa was much more fun to hang out with when she wasn’t moping for reasons Debbie still couldn’t understand. She wanted to be there for her friend to help her through this, but, really, the last few times this sort of thing had happened, there had been either an end in sight or a clear cause. She was flying blind now.

And she wasn’t as good at that as she needed to be, which meant she was failing her friend.

“At _everything_. Not just high school, but beyond that, with college and jobs and…and even….” Theresa’s voice was barely audible now, catching on the sobs she couldn’t quite stifle. “Even… _him_.”

How come every high school problem seemed to come back to relationships?

“Look,” Debbie said, trying to be practical, “just because he’s a jerk and hasn’t done anything more than send the Ninja to give you flowers _one time_ , doesn’t mean he hates you. We’ve been over this.”

Theresa’s mouth quivered, and Debbie supposed she could have phrased that better. “But he doesn’t….” Theresa shook her head and made an angry wipe at her eyes, succeeding in smudging her mascara instead of drying her tears. “I’ll never be able to be what he wants!”

They were going to have last night’s conversation again, weren’t they? “Theresa. You shouldn’t _have_ to be what he wants. If he doesn’t want you as you are, he’s not worth it.” But Theresa was beyond listening to her now, and the tears were running freely down her cheeks. “Besides,” Debbie added, just in case Theresa wasn’t as far gone as she suspected, “you don’t even know _what_ he wants. It’s not like he’s hooked up with anyone else.”

Theresa mumbled something but all Debbie caught was _Heidi_. Debbie wasn’t stupid; she knew Theresa was still haunted by that incident, even though Debbie was pretty sure it wasn’t ever going to happen. For one thing, she would bet that Randy’s friendship with Howard was stronger than anything Randy might feel for Heidi, because if it wasn’t, he definitely _would_ have made a move by now. 

Of course, she was equally sure that if Randy tried, Heidi would shut him down in a heartbeat. She couldn’t even remember the kid’s name. Debbie wasn’t one to play matchmaker, but she knew a long shot when she saw one.

Or maybe her being so cynical was why she herself was still single, but she didn’t care at the moment. She had more important things to worry about—like blowing Heidi’s version of newscasting out of the water once she figured out who the Ninja was and published _that_ story.

Assuming Heidi started up her show again, anyway. Debbie still couldn’t believe she’d quit. That would be like her leaving the NHGTTWDPC (online edition), or Theresa throwing away her baton, or Bucky his triangle and dinger, or Stevens his trombone, or—

Theresa began to shake, and Debbie stepped back. It wasn’t the about-to-break-down-sobbing shake. (Debbie had no trouble recognizing that after last night.) She hadn’t been paying attention, and now she was pretty sure she was going to pay for that.

Another shudder wracked Theresa’s body, and then she began to change.

Debbie couldn’t do anything now, so she did the only thing she _could_ do: she turned and ran. She tried to swallow down her own fear of not knowing what was going on, of not knowing what caused this, of not knowing how to stop it. She tried to ignore the shivers that raced up her spine as she heard the inhuman roar that came out of the mouth of the girl who was supposed to be her best friend. She tried to suppress her rising panic. She was a _reporter_. She should be able to observe and assess these situations neutrally.

But the truth was, she was terrified, and it was hard to keep her fear from being the only thing on her mind.

-|-

“It’s delectable, isn’t it?” the Sorcerer asked the rat.

The sewer rat squeaked.

The Sorcerer’s grin grew. “Yes. I didn’t imagine that spirit would keep her word—McFist never does, and he must have failed me again or we would have heard from him already.” The Sorcerer didn’t try to stop the chuckle from escaping him. “Can you imagine the look on his face when he discovers I’m free?”

The rat shrugged, as much as rats could shrug, but the Sorcerer was more than capable of deducing the meanings of this particular rat. It was a rather long-lived specimen and clever than most, both no doubt due to his influence. That it had chosen to associate with him may have been strictly by chance, but the Sorcerer had had a rat as a companion for many, many years now. He had a suspicion that this companionship was something that, for lack of a better term, ran in the family. Besides, he had always had a strong affinity with the creatures.

He wasn’t one to argue when the company benefited him, and he was perfectly content to let the rats get out of it what they did.

“There is nothing stopping you from coming to the surface. I wouldn’t see you immediately crushed.”

The rat gave him a dubious look.

“You deserve a better reward for your companionship than that sort of death,” the Sorcerer pointed out. And, besides, a monster rat attacking was _also_ beneficial to him. Really, it was a win-win situation. 

The Sorcerer watched as another one of his orbs glowed with a sudden life and spun up to join the others circling above him. It had been too long since he’d last juggled this many. The shade had been more of a fool than he’d imagined if she’d thought she could double-cross him so late, or perhaps her mistake had not been in taking the time to recognize his true agenda. She’d had another with her, a ghost of one form or another that he’d sensed but never seen, so he knew she’d at least tried to keep tabs on him.

But her failings were her own, and all to his benefit, if he was free to act now. He’d certainly watched her, looking into his orbs to catch a glimpse of the world above, and she did good work— _quick_ work. Her taint was spreading across the student body like a disease, a poison that ate away at confidence and self worth and every other pesky quality. As far as he could tell, both she and her companion fed off the feelings she induced, but they had not consumed so much that he could not latch onto the despair of the students. Quite the contrary; the more they fed, the more opportunities he had.

He might not even destroy her once he got out. They had had a deal, after all.

The Sorcerer sent more of his power up through the vents, more of his own taint to mix with that of the shadow’s, and allowed himself to feel hopeful again. 

This time, he would be free.

This time, he would destroy the Ninja.

This time, chaos would reign.


	18. Chapter 18

“Outta my way, Jerk-wad,” Bash said. The kid went sprawling at his shove and started to protest before he realized who he was trying to talk to. “Yeah, that’s right, I’m comin’ through here.”

“You probably don’t want to.” The kid shoved his glasses back onto his face and squinted at Bash. 

“Hey, you don’t wanna tell me what I wanna do.” Bash gave the kid a once-over; he didn’t recognize him, but losers didn’t tend to register for him. For all Bash knew, the kid was a snot-nosed freshman. “Are you really gonna try to tell me what I wanna do?”

“Oh, no way, dude.” The kid held up his hands as if to ward off a punch, though Bash knew that would get him absolutely nowhere. The kid perhaps suspected it, too, because he didn’t move from his spot on the floor. “Just saying there’s a fight out there that’s not pretty.”

“Fight?” Bash echoed. “The Ninja’s here?” This was awesome! He’d wanted to throw another Bash party, and he could still put one together for this weekend. His mom’s guests would be gone by Saturday night, and it would totally make up for sitting through this boring dinner thing. And now that the Ninja was here, he could invite the Ninja!

“Um….” The kid kept staring at Bash’s fists. Smart kid. He was probably another homework guy, in case the first homework guy got sick. Bash couldn’t imagine doing his own homework; it was just so much better to give it to the homework guy, ‘cause he was doing everyone’s homework anyway. “Yeah, he would be. You mind if I, uh, follow you out so I can see him, too?”

“Just don’t get in my way again!” Frankly, Bash really didn’t care what this kid did, so long as he didn’t realize Bash was headed outside because his mom was coming to pick him up. Well, his mom was coming to pick him up in a limo driven by a Robo-Ape, and the limo and the Robo-Ape were cool, but he couldn’t let it get around school that his _mom_ had come to pick him up. The fact that she was coming herself made Bash suspect she was going to take him to try on that new suit she’d made him get last week to make sure it fit after the tailor’s alterations. Bash hated those kinds of things, but he got plenty of stuff and spending money for cooperating. 

“Crud,” the kid next to him muttered when they burst through the outside doors. He ran toward the fight, and Bash followed. He could see the Ninja fighting another ninja, another kid fighting a monster—not someone he recognized, at least not from this angle—and a girl in a robot suit who was definitely down for the count.

Bash squinted. She looked kind of familiar. 

“Jazz!” The loser Bash had graciously decided not to crush gave the fighters a wide berth and made his way over to the girl. To check on her, Bash supposed. But her name sounded familiar, too. Something McJerk had been droning on about, maybe. He’d been out of the house even more often than usual, so it was extra hard for Bash to remember.

Eh, whatever. Didn’t matter to him. 

Bash turned his attention back to the fight. “Go, Ninja!” he shouted, jabbing one fist into the air. “You rock!”

The Ninja flipped backwards, avoiding a strike from Green Ninja. But then the other kid who was probably _supposed_ to be helping got thrown into the Ninja, and they both went down. The monster the first kid had been fighting…. Bash had seen a lot of weird stuff in Norrisville. But he hadn’t seen a monster quite like this before.

The creepy lady who’d pretended to be a hot chick and trapped them in Club Super Awesome Teen Time Club vaguely reminded him of this monster, whoever she was. They both had the creepy voice thing going on, and the shifty-hard-to-stare-at thing. Or maybe that was just because it was windy.

A bright green ray slammed into the shadow monster lady, courtesy of the weirdly dressed kid fighting with the Ninja, and the Ninja produced something from his pockets and threw it at Green Ninja. Green Ninja dodged with a series of flips that must’ve impressed the Ninja, but before he could land, _he_ was blasted with a green ray. Turning, Bash saw the loser from earlier holding something and pointing it at Green Ninja.

Maybe he wasn’t quite as much of a loser as Bash had assumed.

He went back to the girl, though, and started to lift her up to drag her out of the way. When he did, Bash got a better look at her and the armour she was wearing, and then he realized why he recognized her. She was one of those kids who’d come with the crazy ghost hunter people that they’d had to eat dinner with a couple of nights ago.

Huh.

He wondered why she’d be here. The Ninja definitely—

“Bashford! We need to be going!”

It was a good thing no one else was around to hear that, for their own sake, because he’d pummel them if they were. The fight was still too far away for them to have caught more than snatches, at least. Bash didn’t really want to leave, but if he went now, his mom would make his stepdad let him help build something in the lab again. Messing up Viceroy’s stuff was fun. Messing with _Viceroy_ was fun.

And he’d see the Ninja fighting soon enough, anyway, so Bash turned and left the fight behind without another thought.

He still told his mom about the awesome fight, though, in case she hadn’t been looking. And she was so happy to see him excited over it that she even told the Robo-Ape to tell his stepdad. That was about all Bash was willing to give his stepdad: the guy was interested in the Ninja, so he wasn’t a _complete_ jerk. And telling him about the Ninja’s latest exploits was really all Bash liked to do around his stepdad that didn’t ultimately end in the other man’s frustration. His mom wanted them to be closer than they were, but Bash was happy to just take the perks being related gave him and leave it at that. After all, interest in the Ninja was about the only thing they really had in common.

Bash figured that sometime, his stepdad and Viceroy would collect enough data on the Ninja that they’d figure out enough of whatever they needed to know so that Bash could meet the Ninja at some point when no one’s life was in danger, and then they could just hang out. And it would be awesome, because the Ninja was the Ninja and Bash was Bash, and they were better than everyone else.

-|-

“Dude, we gave you a weapon that will work against ghosts. _Use it_! I won’t be able to shoot while I’m getting Jazz out of here.”

Randy was just seriously considering hurling fireballs at Spectra again, but Tucker had a point. He’d forgotten again about the lipstick weapon in his pocket, but if he varied blasts from that with fireballs, then he might get in a good hit now and then. (He kept wanting to throw physical objects, forgetting for a moment that they weren’t effective. This intangibility thing was annoying. Useful for them, but really annoying for him.)

The trouble was, this ghost ninja was _really_ good at dodging—Randy swore he was doing it to show off—so it didn’t really matter what Randy threw at him if he couldn’t ever hit him.

Danny was up and fighting with Spectra again, trying to divert her attention. Randy knew he had to do the same with this ninja—Bertrand, he supposed, from what Danny had said earlier—if Tucker was going to have a hope of getting Jazz away without them both getting hit. 

It was just _hard_. Geez, compared to Danny, he sucked. Something Howard, who was now jogging towards them, would no doubt announce loudly once he got his breath back. But the truth of the matter was that Randy wasn’t used to fighting ghosts. He couldn’t anticipate their moves and they couldn’t be stopped by slicing up something they held dear. And he couldn’t avoid their attacks as easily as Danny could.

“Hey,” Howard called as he came to a stop. “Ninja. Slight problem.” 

Howard stopped to take a few breaths, and Randy made the mistake of turning to look at him. From the corner of his eye, he saw Bertrand _shift_ and a bright green panther arced towards Howard. Randy hurled a fireball at it without even thinking, hoping to mess up its trajectory, and then began running to push Howard out of the way in case he missed.

Danny must have abandoned his own fight because all of a sudden he was _there_ , and he slammed into the panther with more force than Randy could ever muster. (He was getting better at using the laws of physics while fighting, but most of the time it was still just luck.) Randy couldn’t stop his momentum and crashed into Howard anyway, sending them both sprawling.

“Bertrand.” It was Spectra’s voice. Randy was surprised she wasn’t attacking. Heck, he was surprised she wasn’t talking to them, trying to drain them of their confidence or something like that. “It’s time.”

Randy turned around just in time to see her twist away from the light of Tucker’s thermos and vanish. A frustrated groan came from Danny, and considering his hands were buried _in the ground_ , Randy could only guess that Bertrand had gone down. Straight down.

Except the only thing straight down….

“The Sorcerer!” he blurted.

Danny sat back to stare at him. “What?”

“The Sorcerer’s stanking kids,” Howard said as he got to his feet and brushed the dead grass off his clothes. “Right now.” He looked at Randy. “It’s a good thing those guys scrammed, ‘cause you’re gonna be busy.”

Danny frowned, no doubt recalling yesterday’s conversation. “Monsters?”

“Yeah.” At least this was something Randy was comfortable with, something he excelled at. “It’s okay. I can handle this. You can chase after those guys if you want.”

Danny shook his head. “I doubt I’ll find them now. I don’t even know if they’ll be back.”

“Yeah,” Tucker chimed in. He still hadn’t been able to get Jazz out of the suit, but he wasn’t freaking out and insisting they get her to a hospital, so Randy took that to be a good sign. Besides, if he was really desperate, he’d get Danny to take her out with the same ease that he’d pulled them through the wall earlier—unless they were worried about what the Fenton adults might think. Or unless it was ghost proof. “They got what they wanted,” Tucker continued, “and even Spectra’s not stupid enough to stick around just so Danny can suck her into a thermos. You said, what, over half the kids in school had seen her and were miserable?”

_Half the kids…._ Man, a gym full of stanked kids was bad enough. And he had a really bad feeling about this. If half—two thirds, three quarters, whatever—of the kids were stanked, transformed into monsters, then the rest….

“That’s why the Sorcerer hasn’t been stanking people,” Randy realized. “He was waiting. For _this_.”

“For what?” Tucker asked.

“To create chaos.” Randy shot to his feet. “I can’t stick around to explain it. Ask Howard!”

He sprinted to the school, nearly running over Debbie at the doors—at least she was okay—and heading towards the screaming.

Because this was why he was here, why he was the Ninja. He needed to protect the people of Norrisville and he needed to stop the Sorcerer—no matter what it took.

-|-

“Get Jazz back to the Spectre Speeder, Tuck,” Danny said once Randy was gone. “Just…take care of her.”

“She’ll be okay, dude. It’s not your fault.” 

Danny nodded distractedly, even though it _was_ his fault for putting her in harm’s way. “Yeah.” The agreement was a lie. “I know.” But the truth hurt too much. “She bad enough to need help?”

Tucker shook his head. “We’ve been through worse.” As if on cue, Jazz groaned. “See? She’s coming around. It’ll be fine.”

Sam was better at patching people up, but Tucker was a good deal better with bandages than with hospitals. They all were; they had to be. So when Tucker awkwardly manoeuvred so he could half drag, half carry Jazz to the Spectre Speeder and to safety, Danny didn’t waste time arguing with him. He knew enough to trust Tucker’s judgement.

Turning back to Howard, he prompted, “So?”

Howard blinked at him. “So what?”

“So fill me in.”

Howard shrugged. “There’s not much more to say. Enough chaos and confusion, and the Sorcerer will break free. I dunno how; I get all this stuff second hand from Randy, and _he_ gets it from the Nomicon.”

Helpful.

“Do you at least know—?” Danny broke off as the girl Bertrand had overshadowed earlier approached them. _Debbie_. He quickly dropped the last few inches to keep his feet firmly on the ground. Since the Ninja and the monsters weren’t actually ghosts, he was back to his first assumption—that these people weren’t exactly used to ghosts—and he didn’t need another thing to deal with right now.

He had a feeling Randy was going to need help sooner rather than later.

“Hi,” Debbie chirped. “Debbie Kang, with the NHGTTWDPC online edition. Can I get a statement from you on what happened here?”

Danny looked at Howard, hoping he could read the _Help me!_ in his eyes.

“The Ninja was here, and now he’s not,” Howard said. “He fought the bad guys, and then he went to fight off the monsters.”

Debbie narrowed her eyes, and her chipper manner dropped off like the mask it must’ve been. “I’m not stupid.”

“Neither are we.”

“That’s up for debate.” Debbie looked around them, easily spotting Tucker and Jazz. “What’s her suit for? Come to that,” she added, looking Danny up and down, “what’s _your_ suit for? It looks like something that should be in a lab.”

Danny growled. He didn’t have time for this. “It’s not safe here. Do yourself a favour and run before things get worse.”

Debbie crossed her arms, and Danny knew he’d made the wrong move. “Oh, yeah? Do you even know what’s going on? Because I’ve never seen you around before today, and I run bios on all the transfer students since that Franz Nukid showed up.” 

Danny rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m, uh, visiting? Howard. He’s my, uh, cousin.”

Debbie looked dubious but didn’t dispute his point. “Which is why you’re suddenly an expert on danger and telling _me_ to run the other way when _you_ should be doing that?”

“Uh….”

“Look, Kang,” Howard said, drawing her attention, “I wasn’t kidding about what I told you before. You think things have been wonked since Dr. Spectra showed up, right? That’s why you wanted to interview her?” He paused, but he didn’t wait long enough for her to answer. Judging by her glare, Danny wasn’t sure she would have, anyway. “Well, we think you were right. Except now things are getting worse, so unless you want to do a hedgehog impersonation—”

“Do you _want_ me to write a particularly unflattering article about you?”

“—then cool your cheese. That girl you saw earlier? Name’s Jazz. And she’s hurt. You wanna be helpful, you go help Tucker with first aid.”

Debbie pursed her lips and Danny didn’t have to know her to know that she wasn’t happy. “Since when did you start acting like something resembling a responsible human being, Howard?”

Howard shrugged. “I’m not gonna quit my day job. You gonna go?”

“Only because that girl might really need help.” She looked at Danny. “And you? You and me, we’re talking when this is over. I want to hear your story.”

He’d figure a way to get out of that later. “Just…stay out of the way.” He winced; that sounded harsh. “We don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“ _We_?” Debbie echoed, her eyebrows climbing. Addressing Howard, she asked, “What, he’s working with the Ninja now? Some out-of-towner?”

“Questions later, okay?” Danny pleaded, giving her a shove in the direction the Spectre Speeder. 

He didn’t even wait to see if she’d start walking; Howard could deal with it. He turned invisible and sure enough, she turned back around and gawked. “Where’d he go?”

“He’s quick on his feet. Gotta be, if he’s helping the Ninja, right?” 

Yeah, Howard could definitely handle it. The guy was infinitely better at making stuff up than Danny was. He flew up over the school, figuring he’d go inside once he figured out where the screaming was actually coming from, and got a view that he wasn’t expecting.

Namely, the Fenton Family Ghost Assault Vehicle as it ignored all laws of traffic and a few of physics while making its way towards Norrisville High.

And the huge truck nearly on its heels—impressive, considering his dad must be driving—and the helicopter coming from the direction of McFist Industries.

Just _great_.

His parents must’ve picked up on the concentration of ecto-signatures during the earlier fight, and somehow McFist must know the Ninja was around despite the device Danny had destroyed yesterday.

Things could not get more wrong than this.

Well, except for the fact that Jazz was injured—not badly, according to Tucker, but still injured—and his parents still didn’t know Tucker was here with the Spectre Speeder. Even if they would in about two minutes. And Danny didn’t entirely understand about this Sorcerer thing and the stank or whatever Randy and Howard had called it, but he knew enough to know that it wasn’t good.

_Kids transforming into monsters_ …. He would’ve felt better if this _were_ a ghost thing. Then, he would’ve at least understood it. But this?

Jazz had _so_ been wrong when she’d said that everything would be fine, that not every city in America was as weird as Amity Park.

He had to hope Tucker—and Jazz, if she could think clearly enough—would be able to distract Jack and Maddie long enough for him to help Randy sort this mess out. They would see these monsters and think _ghosts_ , no question about it. Danny didn’t have to see these kids-turned-monsters himself to know that. Heck, that had been his conclusion. But if they charged in there thinking these were ghosts, that their weapons would work? 

They’d be in even more danger than they usually were when they went out ghost hunting.

“Just…try to keep everyone safe,” Danny murmured despite knowing the others couldn’t hear him, and then he turned intangible and dove into the school.

-|-

There were monsters everywhere.

Julian recognized some of the monsters, the kids within them. Some of the kids who ran for cover convulsed and transformed themselves. Others were successful as they ran away screaming or huddled down to hide, like he had. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, the inside of his locker, but it was safer inside than it was out _there_.

His curiosity kept getting the better of him, however, and that was why he kept peering out the vents in the door. 

He saw the Ninja arrive first—no surprise there; the teachers would still be counting kids in the designated meeting places before checking hiding places such as his—and face off with the first of the monsters. Surprisingly, he was unsuccessful; the one who had once been Dave played the Ninja like an accordion before he was able to wrap his scarf around the broken light fixture and pull himself free.

Julian watched with rapt attention. He still didn’t know how, exactly, the turning began. Members of Der Monster Klub had reluctantly agreed to test out their theories, but so far no results had been consistent. He himself had drawn the short straw more than once, having to leave his underwear unchanged and his hair unwashed—at separate times and in combination—for over a week.

The Ninja stabbed desperately at the former Flute Girl, catching only her glasses as she moved to evade him, and threw a Ninja Ice Ball at the transformed Bucky.

Perhaps it was the sheer numbers of the transformed, but Julian had never seen the Ninja so close to losing the fight. The Rachel-monster had nearly taken his head off with that last swing of her clarinet, but though the monsters sought to destroy the Ninja, the Ninja did not seek to destroy them—at least, he did not try any obvious ways of killing them. He knew, like Julian did not know, why they were this way. He sought to protect them, fighting them off only as much as necessary until he could return them to their true state.

Unless the monsters _were_ their true state. The idea both thrilled and chilled Julian; the implications were dizzying, but the terror that it might be the truth inexplicably excited him. Just…not enough for him to want to test the theory that one needed to be in direct contact with a monster within a certain period of time prior to turning oneself. Theresa had proposed this theory after she’d gotten over a terrible cold, pointing out that the Ninja knew the ‘cure’ and quite possibly the length of the incubation period, which was how he always knew when to return and how to restore the students while avoiding the change himself.

Julian jerked back as the Ninja was thrown into the lockers next to him. His own locker door swung open before he could stop it. The Ninja got to his feet with a groan and glanced at Julian, then back at the monsters, before looking at Julian again. “You need to get out of here,” he said.

“There is nowhere that is safe except for the shadows,” Julian confided, shrinking back.

The Ninja rolled his eyes and held out a hand. “I’ll get you out of here, okay? Wait outside with the rest of the kids. I’m pretty sure they’ll be gathering out there.”

Julian eagerly grabbed onto the Ninja. (Truthfully, in his experience, the shadows weren’t the safest, either, but he felt safer hiding in a locker than under a table.) The Ninja pushed him to the floor almost immediately, covering him as one of Theresa’s tentacle-like arms slammed into the lockers where their heads had been seconds before. The Ninja rolled off of Julian and grabbed his hand, practically dragging him along as they made a dash for it. The Ninja would periodically turn to throw something at the transformed students or jerk him out of the way of an attack he didn’t see coming soon enough to dodge himself, but they still made good progress.

At least, they did until they got to the end of the hallway and found it barred by the monster who had been Steven while Dave, Theresa, and the three monstered band geeks blocked off their retreat. 

Julian stood there dumbly for a moment, but the Ninja pulled him into the nearest room, which happened to be full of art supplies and have no windows whatsoever. He slammed the door behind them before fumbling for a light.

“Was that intentional?” Julian wondered aloud. He wasn’t sure it had been a mistake, the Ninja seemingly trapping them in here; the Ninja was the Ninja after all, and he could blast his way out of this room if he needed to.

Before the Ninja had a chance to answer, another voice spoke up. “Need a hand?”

Julian’s eyes swivelled toward the sound and he jerked back with a small shriek at the sight of a disembodied hand just _floating_ there. He turned away and pressed closer to the Ninja, hoping it would be gone when he looked again. He liked magic tricks and illusions, but _that_ ….

The Ninja rolled his eyes. “Cool it, Phantom. We’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

There was a snicker, and when Julian hesitantly turned back, he saw another boy standing in the room with them. The white-haired boy was clothed in a strange suit that almost seemed to glow, but his face was uncovered and Julian could see the smirk on it. “You mean like that big fish I saw out there?”

“Just get Ju—uh, um…” the Ninja fumbled for a moment, switching his gaze back to Julian, “…your name _is_ Julian, right?”

Julian nodded, eyes wide. The _Ninja_ knew his name.

“Yeah.” The Ninja looked at the other boy again. “Just get him outside. I can handle these guys.”

The new kid, Phantom, looked unconvinced. “You’re outnumbered. I’m bad at math, but I’m not _that_ bad. I’m here for backup. Besides, I’ve gotta tell you something.” He looked pointedly at Julian, making it clear it wasn’t something he wanted to say in Julian’s hearing if it could be avoided.

“Are you kidding? We don’t have time for that! They will break down that door in three seconds,” countered the Ninja. “I can hold them off—”

The Ninja was cut off when Phantom grabbed hold of both of them. The next moment, Julian felt giddy, but this was almost immediately followed by a sickly feeling of vertigo and he shut his eyes until it went away. When he opened them again, they were outside of the school, standing not ten feet from the parking lot.

The Ninja muttered something unintelligible under his breath and was gone in a burst of red smoke. 

“Hey, I _helped_ ….” Phantom trailed off with a groan. He turned his attention back to Julian and pointed to the crowds of students gathering behind the school. “Go, find your friends. The Ninja and I are going to deal with this.”

Phantom was gone before Julian could point out that most of his friends were still _in_ the school. He hesitated, curious about this new arrival and wondering if he could sate that curiosity by following him back into the school. Phantom did not strike Julian as the sort of hero Lucius O’ThunderPunch had been, someone who would inevitably put his own interests before the good of the people. But there was something….

Julian couldn’t put his finger on it, but something about Phantom sent shivers down his spine.

“Julian! Get back in line!”

Julian flinched and turned to see Miss Wickwhacker brandishing her baton at him. “But I was just—”

“No buts!” She picked him up, turned him around, and set him down in the direction of the students who were still milling about in the open yard behind the school, some talking in fearful whispers, others openly weeping, and some who were so used to all of this that they looked bored to tears.

But Julian had been inside, and he knew better. This was not like other monster attacks. This time, the students were more difficult to de-monster. The Ninja had clearly pulled some strings so this Phantom would come to help him, since Julian could tell they knew each other from how they had acted. He just wasn’t convinced they knew each other well.

“Keep in formation, soldier,” Miss Wickwhacker barked, giving him a shove. “I need to get back in there and make sure the area’s secure.”

Whatever evil had possessed his friends (which he had evaded) had left the school staff untouched. But Julian did not know if they had been tested, and he _did_ know that their doom might very well be upon them either way. Wearing a rather crazed smile, he went to inform his fellow students of that fact.

Because the Ninja, who had always worked alone before, must be off his game if he was not doing so now—and Julian hadn’t witnessed anything particularly contrary to that.

“The evil will overtake all doubters!” Julian announced gleefully when he reached the nearest group of students. They were popular kids, ones he expected would be taken by the evil themselves. “We are doomed! Doomed!”

The one he recognized as Morgan rolled her eyes at him, but he saw her apparent indifference for the mask it was. When the Ninja was thrown out of the school and landed in the midst of their little group, Morgan’s mask fell away, and for the briefest of seconds, even she looked a trifle concerned. A minor crater had formed from the Ninja’s impact, but this was not unusual. What _was_ unusual was the cause of Morgan’s growing concern: the Ninja did not immediately rise to fight again.

“We are all doomed!” Julian repeated, and this time the words elicited uneasy looks instead of scornful ones. The truth would not be denied.


	19. Chapter 19

“Just distract them,” Tucker pleaded. “Please!” He was sitting with the currently-unconscious Jazz in the Spectre Speeder. Debbie was looking down at him, arms crossed and clearly not amused, but he was staring anxiously past her, watching the Fentons drive through the school parking lot and over onto the grass with a manoeuvre that would have caused a lot of vehicle damage if they weren’t in their specially designed Fenton RV.

Debbie arched an eyebrow at him. “Distract them?” she repeated.

“They don’t know I’m here. I was kinda hoping to keep it that way if at all possible.”

Debbie’s other eyebrow climbed to join the first. “Even though she needs help?”

The girl nodded at Jazz, and Tucker thought that was _really_ unfair. “She’ll be _fine_ ,” he insisted. He hated hospitals and nurses’ offices and the like; having to break into a creepy abandoned hospital to save everyone and having to get his hands bandaged after they’d been pecked by a particularly angry mother bird was bad enough. He’d learned to recognize the sorts of injuries they could handle themselves and the sorts they couldn’t. 

Of course, he hadn’t counted on Jazz blacking out again when they got to the Spectre Speeder, but Tucker didn’t think she’d be out long.

Debbie gave him a dubious look, and Tucker relented. “All right, all right, you can tell them I’m here—but I still need you to go.” 

“Why?”

Tucker couldn’t help it; he glanced at the Robo-Apes that were hovering at the edge of the crowd, at the few that were edging through it to the school—and those were only the ones he could see. He needed time to see if he could hack into the system that controlled them—something that would be harder if Viceroy had discovered what he’d done earlier and made any adjustments—and, if not shut the robots down, then at least redirect them. He didn’t particularly want them to find Danny _or_ Randy.

“Because I’ve got something I really need to do right now?” He knew it was unconvincing the moment the words left his mouth, but he couldn’t tell her the truth and he was hardly better at excuses than Danny.

“Something more important than the health of your friend?” The scepticism was thick.

Tucker pushed his glasses up. “Something definitely equal to it, and I can’t do both at once.” 

“Yeah? What?”

Yeesh, this girl was nosier than Jazz. “It’s gonna take way too long to explain. C’mon, please?” He was definitely missing Sam. She’d be on distraction duty already. Tucker would have happily sent Howard—he could pretend to want to hear more about ghosts, if nothing else—but he’d lost sight of the kid when everyone else starting pouring out of the school and he wasn’t sure if Howard was still wearing his Fenton Phone.

Debbie rolled her eyes. “Fine. But you owe me an explanation when this is over.” She stomped off before Tucker could protest.

This worked well for him, because he didn’t really have time to think of a good argument anyway. Hopping out of the Spectre Speeder—because if Mr. and Mrs. Fenton were going to check on Jazz before flying into the school to go after ghosts, he didn’t want to be around—Tucker headed into the crowd for camouflage before pulling out his PDA and getting down to business. He’d need other kids around him as a disguise in case someone got wise to what he was trying to do.

He didn’t fancy his chances against a Robo-Ape.

“It’s _the Ninja_!”

Tucker didn’t look up until that last cry, and he realized the crowd of students around him had flowed away. He ran to catch up and pushed his way through the crowd. He didn’t make it all the way to the front, but he made it near enough to make out Randy. A quick glance right and left showed Robo-Apes ready to move in, probably to grab the Ninja on the pretence of helping him, so Tucker bent his head down again and redoubled his efforts.

He needed to get this done.

“ _Ninja_!” That was Howard’s voice, Tucker noted absently. He must have finished—or cut off—whatever he had been doing. “Hey, Ninja, buddy, get up. We still need you!”

There was a very load groan, probably courtesy of Randy. Good. He wasn’t too out of it. Danny, at least when he was in ghost mode, had the advantage of being a lot more _resilient_ to those kinds of hits than normal people. He would’ve been up again already. Frankly, Tucker was kind of surprised he hadn’t been able to catch Randy, but he didn’t know how many people they were fighting in there. Danny usually tried to be aware of where everyone was, but leaving a fight only to get shot down or captured when his back was turned wouldn’t have helped either of them.

“Excuse me,” a robotic voice at his back intoned, causing Tucker to freeze. “I must get through.”

Very slowly, he lowered his PDA. Because he knew he didn’t have the strength to put up a fight or otherwise stall, he shuffled to one side to let the Robo-Ape through. It was kind of awkward, plugging in stuff with only one hand and not raising the PDA so he had a good view of the screen, but he didn’t want to risk letting the Robo-Ape—or its friends—see what he was doing. And Tucker had already lifted the other hand to his ear, touching the Fenton Phone to turn his microphone on. “We’ve got trouble, Danny,” he said quietly. Hopefully, if any Robo-Apes were trying to eavesdrop, his words would get lost in the general murmur of the crowd. “Ninja’s down, Robo-Apes are moving in. Mr. and Mrs. F are currently distracted but that probably won’t last if they see you.”

Danny didn’t answer him, but Tucker had to hope he’d heard and that his Fenton Phone hadn’t gone flying at some point during the fight. He couldn’t do much of anything else, anyway; he needed to finish reprogramming the Robo-Apes and activate _his_ program or things were going to go sideways _really_ fast.

Howard could have the unenviable job of trying to distract a Robo-Ape. He had more experience dealing with them, anyway—something that wouldn’t have mattered if Viceroy hadn’t programmed them with personalities or reasonable facsimiles thereof.

Tucker found this very interesting but had a feeling that putting them all into ‘Ape Mode’ or ‘Strike Mode’ would probably do more harm than good. (The programs had been disabled, but it wouldn’t take much to get either up and running.)

“I have come to help the Ninja,” the Robo-Ape said. Despite its monotone, it must be arguing with Howard.

Sure enough, “That’s what _we’re_ doing. We have it covered, really.”

“I have come to help the Ninja,” the Robo-Ape repeated blandly as if it couldn’t understand Howard’s resistance—which, really, it most likely _didn’t_. “This is a good thing for all of us, is it not?”

“Not the fact that the Ninja might actually _need_ help,” Howard said quickly. “Here’s the thing,” he began, and then he launched into an explanation that Tucker tuned out fairly quickly. The Robo-Ape kept protesting, but apparently with the Ninja down and unmoving, it didn’t find reason enough to outright ignore Howard or otherwise snatch up the Ninja in front of all the students. Pretending to help or not, anything that could be contrived as kidnapping wouldn’t look good for McFist.

He just needed about thirty seconds more, tops, to shift the Robo-Apes to a different target. It wouldn’t be quite up to the _these aren’t the droids you’re looking for_ mind-bending standard, but it would mess with their heads enough to slow McFist down.

Mr. and Mrs. Fenton would be another problem, though, that he’d have to deal with immediately once this was over. They would put their concern for Jazz ahead of hunting ghosts, even the infamous Phantom, but unless Tucker was dead wrong about the seriousness of the situation, at least one of them was going to storm into the school sooner rather than later with weapons blazing. Probably Jack. 

Really, the only advantage he had right now was that he was lower on the priority list and could always be yelled at for endangering himself later. Well, not _yelled at_ , but there would be worry and looks of deep disappointment and he’d come through it all feeling cruddy and full of guilt, because they treated him like a second son—and being disciplined was definitely one of the times essentially having two sets of parents was distinctly less fun.

“The Ninja’s _gone_!”

Tucker didn’t recognize that voice, but considering it followed what his brain belatedly realized had been an audible gasp, it got his attention. He couldn’t see where Randy should be anymore—the crowd had closed in again and shifted around when the Robo-Ape had pushed through—but he _could_ see enough to know that the Robo-Ape hadn’t been the one to take him away.

Good.

And now, Tucker just needed to make sure it _stayed_ that way—at least until Viceroy realized what he’d done and fixed things up again. With a grin, Tucker keyed in the final sequence and hit the button to override Viceroy’s programming, giving the Robo-Apes a _new_ Ninja target to find.

-|-

Randy felt like he wanted to throw up, and he couldn’t figure out if it was from the pounding in his head or the stomach-stealing swooshing he’d just experienced. Probably both.

“You okay?”

That had to be one of the stupidest questions in the history of stupid questions, yet everyone asked it—even him. Randy blinked his eyes open and forced himself to sit up. “Yeah, I think, but I just—” He froze as his eyes focused on the Ninja.

One hand flew to his face and the other was tugging at his clothes even as he was looking down, seeing very clearly that he was _not_ wearing the suit, and Danny—because he knew it was Danny—reached out a hand to stop him. “They’re after you, and you took a nasty hit.”

“I’ve taken worse,” Randy muttered, shifting his shoulders. _Ow_ …. “It just knocked the wind out of me.” If he’d managed to latch his scarf around something, this would have ended _very_ differently. Heck, there might even have been one less stanked kid running around if he’d gotten lucky enough on the rebound to destroy whatever hold the Sorcerer had on one of his classmates.

“Uh huh.” Danny sounded sceptical, and Randy couldn’t really blame him. 

“Just give me the mask back, okay? Your thing is ghosts; this is _my_ thing, and I’m needed right now— _especially_ if no one is fighting those guys.”

“Who said no one’s fighting them?”

Randy, who had been getting to his feet, stopped in a crouch and stared. “What, did you call in Tucker and Howard or something?”

Danny snorted. “Ghost powers, remember? I finally got duplication down. I can’t hold it for very long, but I can hold it for long enough.”

“Duplication?” Randy repeated as he straightened. Somehow, that was a lot harder to believe than anything else he’d seen Danny do so far.

“Yeah. But I haven’t really figured out how to split my powers any other way than completely evenly, so I’m probably paying for it in the actual fight. Don’t get me wrong; I’m good at dodging. But if either of us takes a bad hit and we completely lose our concentration, somebody’s gonna be vanishing. Again. Because you already did that, outside, as far as anyone else knows. I know _inside_ isn’t exactly safe either, but I figured there would be fewer prying eyes.”

Randy blinked, only just realizing now that they were in the band room. Or what was left of the band room. Music and folders were strewn across the room and there was a tangle of what had previously been band stands in one corner. Most of the chairs had been distinctly trampled. The shelving unit was practically nonexistent now, more a mass of splintered wood than anything else, and the instruments…. He definitely understood why Flute Girl kept Princess Tootie with her at all times, especially since she was fond enough of her particular flute to name it. Seriously, of all the places Danny could’ve taken him, why choose the place that was already trashed?

…Or maybe he’d picked it _because_ it was already trashed and he’d figured, with the other Danny distracting the monsters, they wouldn’t bother coming back in here.

Randy scrubbed at his face; this was going to get confusing very quickly.

“I feel better now,” Randy said reproachfully. And, on some level, he did. He still hurt all over, but he could breathe easily and despite feeling like his brains had been rattled in his skull, he didn’t think he’d broken anything. 

“Yeah, but McFist—” Danny broke off and glanced at the door.

Randy did so, too, just in time to see Miss Wickwhacker barge in. “Cunningham!” she snapped. “Are you deaf? _This is not a drill_. And even if it _were_ a drill, you’d be out of line, soldier!” Randy opened his mouth to protest, but Miss Wickwhacker moved right on to Danny. “Ninja! Your backup could use some help. Things aren’t looking too good out there.”

“Uh, right,” Danny said, and he sprinted past her—probably as much to help out his duplicate and clear a path for them as to get away from Randy’s drill sergeant of a teacher. Randy vaguely wondered how Miss Wickwhacker had even gotten inside unharmed, but he figured he probably shouldn’t underestimate _all_ his teachers if they were able to accept monster attacks as part of their normal working conditions.

“With me, Cunningham. Look sharp. We don’t have time for dillydallying. You need to be on your toes.”

“I know,” Randy said as he moved to join her, “but I just— Ow!” He broke off, rubbing his arm where she’d hit him with her baton. Even through his clothes, that stung. 

Or maybe his body was a little more susceptible to her torture than it normally was, after that last hit he’d taken.

“No excuses. You don’t respect the rules, you don’t respect the baton, you make everything worse for everybody else. Now _march_.”

Randy marched.

But when he saw Danny—both Dannys—fighting in the hallway, he knew he couldn’t just _leave_. The kid had been following his lead when it came to destroying whatever the stanked kids had on them, but he didn’t know enough about how they’d come to be that way. Because sometimes, whatever the Sorcerer latched on to was not a physical object, and destanking was a lot harder. Sometimes it was a particular dance move that was valued, sometimes it was—

Randy froze and looked at Theresa, who had refused to tell him what Spectra had said to make her so upset.

“Keep it moving, soldier.” The push forward made him stumble a little, and he took advantage of the situation to take a fall. And roll. Towards Theresa, even if it meant going over the top of fallen plaster from the cracked ceiling, because if Randy was right—and he wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted to be right; it was kind of hard to tell, because if he was right, things were going to be a bit…difficult—then Danny couldn’t do this without him.

Screaming erupted from outside. It was loud, loud enough to be heard over the sounds of the fight inside, and it was constant—so, multiple people screaming.

That couldn’t be good.

Randy had a brief glimpse of Miss Wickwhacker coming in to pick him up by the scruff of his neck and rolled (away from her) so he could get up on his feet. “Hey, uh, Theresa?”

Theresa, who had been about to bash what looked like the Ninja into the lockers, paused. “Randy?” Her voice was warped, not quite her own.

Danny turned intangible to get out of her grip, but since Miss Wickwhacker was about to drag him away by the ear, Randy figured she was suitably distracted—and Theresa wouldn’t remember that one odd thing out of everything else, assuming she managed to remember anything at all.

“Yeah.” Randy rocked on his heels, not sure what to say—not entirely sure what he was doing. But it had worked last time, essentially, so hopefully…. “I was, um….” Why was his mouth so dry? “I was kind of hoping that you and I could, uh….” This shouldn’t be so hard to spit out. “That we could, y’know, maybe, uh, hit Greg’s Game Hole or something, sometime, when you don’t have twirling stick practice?” Howard was going to tease him mercilessly for this.

Randy wasn’t sure he’d be able to insist that it was solely to destank Theresa and nothing else.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do if she actually accepted.

But they could go as friends, at least. That was easier. Maybe as a group of friends. There was safety in numbers. It could be him and Theresa _and_ Howard, Julian, Dave, Juggo, Pradeep, and Bucky. And Debbie if Theresa wanted. Then he wouldn’t have to think of what he could say without sounding like a complete idiot, because he didn’t want Theresa thinking he was a complete idiot. At least, not all the time. He didn’t want Theresa thinking Debbie was right about him.

“Cunningham!” Miss Wickwhacker had managed to dodge the flying debris (Flute Girl had sent a few locker doors the Ninja’s way) and catch up with him. “If you don’t respect the rule of order, chaos is going to reign. So _march_ , soldier. _March_.” She grabbed him by the arm and dragged him away without even giving him a chance to comply—most likely because she definitely didn’t trust him now.

But it was totally worth it, because as she dragged him out the door, he saw the green stank of the Sorcerer swirl away from Theresa and leave her looking like the ordinary girl he remembered.

-|-

“Sweetie, I’m so sorry. We never meant for this to happen.”

Jazz groaned. She couldn’t do much more than that right now because she felt like someone had taken a jackhammer to her head and she was afraid to open her eyes. It hadn’t gone over so well last time, and she could still taste the bile in the back of her throat—but it wasn’t good to think about that right now, not good _at all_.

“It’s me, honey, it’s your mom. Don’t try to move, all right? I’m just checking you over.” 

Jazz grunted; moving wasn’t really on the agenda at the moment, anyway. When a hand took hers, though, she squeezed it. It was the only way she could say _I’m listening_ without actually having to vocalize something into a jumbled version of those words.

“You’ve been banged up pretty good,” Maddie’s voice acknowledged, and Jazz was still coherent enough to hear the concern oozing through every intonation. A cool hand brushed some hair away from her forehead, resting there for a moment before searching gently through her hair. Jazz jerked involuntarily as the fingers brushed a particularly tender spot on the back of her head. “Don’t worry; your father and I will find those ghosts that did this to you.” 

More likely, they’d find Danny and assume it was all Phantom’s fault. Jazz tried to tell them—whoever was listening—that it wasn’t his fault, that he’d tried to protect her, but it came out garbled even to her own ears, and Maddie was shushing her almost immediately.

Jazz did a mental catalogue of her own injuries, ignoring her mother’s murmurings. Nothing seemed to be broken—the Fenton Peeler had likely protected her in that regard—and she figured, if she was thinking this clearly, that she didn’t have a concussion. That was probably a close thing, granted, but she thought she was going to get away with just a nasty goose egg.

“Not Phantom,” Jazz whispered. She repeated it again, stronger, hoping she was coherent enough that her words could actually be understood. 

“Jazz, sweetie, Phantom is a ghost and—”

“ _Not Phantom_ ,” Jazz whispered fiercely. She forced herself to open her eyes and instantly regretted it—her head spun and it was like looking at a negative—but Danny had enough on his plate and really didn’t need to deal with their parents right now, too. 

Although Jazz’s mind was only catching up to her ears now, and she realized Maddie hadn’t sounded at all surprised that she’d mentioned Phantom.

Which meant they had already known he was in town.

“Not the Ninja, either,” Jazz forced out. Their weapons wouldn’t hurt Randy—at least not as much as they would an actual ghost—but they would definitely distract him.

“Here, have some water.”

Jazz didn’t recognize the voice and forced herself to focus, blinking away the blackness and waiting until her eyes adjusted from sudden blinding white. The girl’s face swam for a moment before settling, the colours of the world normal again, and Jazz faced the girl they’d run into earlier. “Debbie,” Jazz said when her mind supplied the name.

The girl looked surprised but nodded. “Yes. I’m just here to help. But you should really have some water.”

It was a bottle marked with an F in a bright green fireball—Fenton Water from the emergency supply in the Assault Vehicle. Which meant Debbie had been accepted by Maddie and Jack without question, which might very well mean Debbie was the one who had told them she was here, which meant they may not know Tucker was here. Yet.

Jazz really couldn’t see that lasting, especially since she was sitting in the Spectre Speeder.

“You should drink something, honey.”

Jazz did, noting absently that Jack was nowhere to be seen—which meant he was either scouring the crowd for ghosts or already inside the school. “I’ll be fine, Mom. Can you just help me get out of this suit?” The Fenton Peeler was surprisingly flexible and lightweight—or perhaps not so surprisingly, given the fact that it was collapsible—but that didn’t mean she wanted to spend hours on end in the thing.

“What is that, anyway?”

The question came from Debbie, and it was Maddie who answered as she began fiddling with the fried controls on Jazz’s right arm. Jazz, who had heard this all before, strained her ears to instead catch what was being talked about in the crowd. At one point she heard _gone_ and _Ninja_ and _monsters_ , but she couldn’t tell if that meant Randy had defeated the monsters or if they had defeated him. It was presumably the former, but Jazz had learned that there really were times she shouldn’t make assumptions.

Her eye caught a flicker of movement that didn’t fit with anything else she’d seen, and the screams reached her ears before she realized some of the students in the crowd weren’t students anymore. 

There was a hiss and a crunch, followed by the unmistakeable sound of metal grinding on metal. The suit hadn’t fully retracted, but it was enough to wriggle her way out with Maddie’s help. Debbie looked torn between watching them with interest and finding out exactly what was happening on the lawn behind the school.

“Stay here and rest,” Maddie ordered once Jazz was resting on the seat beside the Fenton Peeler suit. “I’ll take care of these ghosts.” She was gone before Jazz could correct her.

“Doesn’t….” Debbie, who was leaning by the open door of the Spectre Speeder, hesitated. “Doesn’t she _know_ they aren’t ghosts? I mean, they were kids a minute ago, right?”

“That’s not saying much when ghosts are involved,” Jazz murmured. She climbed to her feet and staggered; Debbie grabbed her arm and waist to steady her. Once stable, Jazz nodded her thanks. The movement didn’t hurt quite as much as she’d anticipated it might.

“But this isn’t a ghost thing.”

“What is it, then?” Jazz countered. She knew Debbie was right, that it wasn’t, but she could certainly understand why her parents thought it was—why _she_ had thought it was. 

“It just…isn’t. Ghosts aren’t our thing. I’m not even convinced they’re real. We have monsters and robots and the Ninja to fight them all off.”

“Yeah, but from what I hear, it sounds like this Ninja has been around for eight hundred years.”

“It’s not like that,” Debbie corrected. “I mean, it is, but it isn’t. I don’t know. I don’t understand it, exactly. But the Ninja, right now…. I go to school with him. I probably _know_ him. I just…haven’t figured out who he is yet.”

Jazz wondered if Randy knew just how close Debbie was to the truth. Jazz would put money on the girl figuring it out by the end of the year if she was half as observant as she seemed. “Suit yourself.” Jazz wasn’t up for an argument, especially when she knew she wasn’t right. “Can you make out what all the fuss is about?”

Debbie glanced over at the barely-controlled chaos that had erupted in the schoolyard. “Besides the fact that there are at least ten monsters attacking? Probably because the Ninja hasn’t shown up yet. Someone shouted earlier that the Ninja was gone, but he uses smoke bombs all the time to get away from prying eyes so that’s nothing new.”

“Except?” Jazz wasn’t so far gone that she couldn’t tell Debbie knew there was a flaw in what she had just said, that no one would have raised the cry unless it was something out of the ordinary.

“I bet he’s still inside the school,” Debbie said, brushing the question aside. “Seriously, though—you don’t even look like you should be vertical. If you want info, I can go and figure out what’s up and report back to you.”

“There isn’t time to be coddling me. Something’s up, and I have a feeling we’re not going to like it.” Jazz took a few steps forward, cursing the fact that she wobbled. _Wobbled_! She didn’t have time for this. She needed to find Tucker. She needed an update on the situation, and she’d lost her Fenton Phone at some point.

“Okay, look.” Debbie had caught up to her and caught her before she ended up with a mouthful of grass. “I get that you want to know what’s going on, but you are not okay. And you’re not going to be helping anyone when you’re like this. Just let me handle this.”

“You can’t! You don’t know half of what’s going on!”

Debbie gave her an incredulous look. “Hello, monsters? Those ringing any bells? I live here, remember? This is my life. Chances are good that I know more than you do about all of this.”

Jazz muttered under her breath but didn’t want to risk denying that louder. She’d spent enough time with Debbie to understand that her curiosity was much like Jazz’s own, and it wouldn’t do to arouse it any more than it already was. “Fine. But I just….” Jazz groaned. “You’ve met Tucker, right?” Someone had to have stuck this kid as her babysitter.

“The geeky kid with the glasses? Yeah.”

“Great. Want to send him my way?”

“Want to tell me why you want to see him?”

Jazz glanced out at the crowd, which was in the continuous process of breaking apart and reforming as students alternatively scattered and huddled together for protection. “I’m afraid he’s going to get trampled.”

Debbie narrowed her eyes but didn’t press the matter. “Fine,” she said, her tone telling Jazz in no uncertain terms that she wanted a full explanation when all of this was over. But that was all right, because by the time all of this was over, Jazz hoped to have thought of a good excuse—or at least a passable one. Debbie left to search for Tucker, so that was a win in Jazz’s book.

She just hoped they sorted this out sooner rather than later; all the screaming was making her head throb.

But when she happened to glance up and see a girl who looked enough like Howard to be his sister suddenly convulse and transform, Jazz had a horrible feeling that this was only just the beginning.


	20. Chapter 20

“Where’d the Ninja go?” McFist demanded again. He and Viceroy were safe in his office, watching the fighting unfold on Viceroy’s interactive computer screen. It looked pretty bad, to his eye; there were monsters erupting everywhere—the Sorcerer was at work—but it had been _at least_ five minutes since the first cries of the Ninja’s disappearance had been raised. Sure, McFist was happy that the Robo-Apes had gotten to the school in record time after Marci’s call, though they should have considering he’d sent them out before that, but he was less than happy that he couldn’t call the Sorcerer and tell him they had the Ninja in their grasp. “Why didn’t the Robo-Apes grab him while they had the chance?”

“Perhaps because they were under orders not to do anything suspicious?” Viceroy drawled.

McFist scowled. “I want the Ninja captured!”

“The Ninja isn’t going to just give up before his job is finished,” Viceroy pointed out. “He’ll turn up.”

“ _He’ll turn up_ ,” McFist parroted. “If we lose the Ninja now because of a programming fault in the Robo-Apes—”

“Their programming is perfect,” Viceroy interrupted. “Look, I can adjust the view so that we’re looking through— Hmm, how about Ralph’s eyes?”

Viceroy didn’t wait for an answer, making the appropriate changes to replace what was on their screen while McFist grumbled under his breath about how stupid it was that Viceroy had given the Robo-Apes individual names. If he wasn’t careful, the man was going to get attached to them like he was to Otto, and that was one nightmare McFist didn’t want to repeat.

The view from the Robo-Ape wasn’t much different from the camera they’d been looking through previously. The vantage point was different, of course—they’d been looking through a camera mounted on the still-hovering helicopter and seeing everything from above—but what they saw was exactly the same: kids, monsters, other Robo-Apes, the Fentons firing that green foamy stuff at the monsters— Still no Ninja.

Although, was that—?

“Viceroy, zoom in on the doors.”

“Sir, I can’t—“

“Just do it!”

Viceroy heaved a sigh and must’ve prompted the Robo-Ape to move, because it lumbered closer to the doors. The view zoomed in slightly on its own, but the Robo-Ape’s telescopic vision wasn’t nearly as impressive as McFist had expected it to be—clearly Viceroy was still modifying his designs and this was one of the older Robo-Apes that the Ninja hadn’t yet destroyed. Still, the Robo-Ape got close enough to confirm what McFist had thought he’d seen: Randy Cunningham.

The boy was being dragged out of the school by a teacher, and neither of them looked particularly happy. While Miss Wickwhacker just seemed determined, Randy looked downright alarmed. McFist couldn’t necessarily attribute that to his being the Ninja—there _were_ monsters running around—but it _was_ rather suspicious that he showed up the minute the Ninja was gone.

“Get close enough to check for a read on that tracker again,” McFist ordered. He wasn’t sure how Viceroy had extended the Ninja Finder’s range by plugging it into all the Robo-Apes, but he didn’t care as long as it worked. “I want to make sure he didn’t fool me the first time.”

The Robo-Ape immediately trudged over. Addressing Miss Wickwhacker, it asked, _“Can I be of some assistance?”_

To Miss Wickwhacker’s credit, she didn’t seem the least bit startled. _“You can make sure this one—”_ and here she jabbed her conductor’s baton at Randy _“—doesn’t do something stupid and try to go back inside.”_

Randy immediately protested the necessity of this, but he was no match for the Robo-Ape or his teacher alone, let alone both of them combined. McFist, however, was much more interested in the Ninja Finder reading Viceroy had just taken via the Robo-Ape.

It turned up negative.

They really _were_ back to square one. 

But within thirty seconds, the reader spiked and _NINJA ACTIVITY DETECTED_ flashed in the Robo-Ape’s vision. It turned, and sure enough, the Ninja burst through the school doors carrying a dazed girl in his arms. The Ninja skidded to a halt when he spotted the Robo-Ape. McFist grinned as the Ninja hesitated long enough for the Robo-Ape to make long strides towards him, cutting the distance between them in half.

The Ninja couldn’t fight with his arms full.

And the nearer the Robo-Ape got, the stronger the readings. McFist watched the ever-climbing display in the bottom left corner of the screen with glee. The Ninja couldn’t escape now.

_“Oh, crud.”_ The Ninja’s words would’ve been missed if it weren’t for the excellent microphones built into the Robo-Apes. _“Uh….”_ The Ninja’s eyes darted around, clearly looking for a way to escape. _They had him!_ It had taken entirely too long, but they had him now. _“I’m just gonna put her down right here,”_ he said delicately, laying the girl down at his feet. _“She doesn’t have anything to do with this.”_

Fortunately, the girl still looked too confused to really do anything (the Ninja must’ve managed to free her from the Sorcerer’s control) and the schoolyard was chaotic enough that no one looked at them twice—even if it _was_ the Ninja.

A few aptly-placed trees no doubt helped, along with the fact that no one dared to stand in one place long enough to get a good look.

“Get the Ninja now!” McFist screeched.

Viceroy winced. “Sir, the Robo-Ape just needs to ID the Ninja and—”

“How can it not have identified the Ninja? It’s _facing_ him!”

“Once the identity of the Ninja is confirmed, the Robo-Ape will lock onto him as its target and no amount of speed will let the Ninja get away.”

“Grab him first and confirm his identity later!”

“Sir, we have had some lawsuits—”

“I don’t care! Just _grab the Ninja_!”

Viceroy sighed and keyed in the command, muttering about how McFist wasn’t the one who had to come up with appropriate cover stories when the Robo-Apes seemed to be more destructive than useful. ‘Malfunction’ could only be used an excuse so many times, but fortunately McFist was nothing if not wealthy while he was in charge of the company.

The Ninja’s eyes widened, but even though he dodged, he hadn’t expected an extendable arm—perhaps there was a reason Viceroy had picked this particular Robo-Ape to approach their target after all—and was caught in a mechanical grip. 

_“Crud,”_ the Ninja muttered again as he squirmed in the grip. _“I guess I’m going out on a limb here if I think asking nicely will make you let me go?”_ There was a pause. _“Get it? Out on a_ limb _?”_

_IDENTITY…. PROCESSING…. PROCESSING…._

McFist cursed computers and everything built out of them in their inevitable slowness when speed was of the essence. “It’s the Ninja!” he yelled. It might not help, but it made him feel better.

_IDENTITY…. CONFIRMED. MATCH NOT FOUND. NOT THE NINJA._

“What?” Viceroy’s splutter wasn’t going to be enough to save him, because McFist was going to _kill_ him.

The Robo-Ape had just _let the Ninja go_. It had _released_ him. And the Ninja hadn’t been stupid enough to stick around and had used a smoke bomb to get away.

“Viceroy,” McFist growled, “how come the Robo-Ape _doesn’t recognize the Ninja_?”

“It _should_ ,” Viceroy insisted, wildly hitting buttons on his McFist Pad. “The Ninja Finder is still reacting! I don’t—” He broke off and frowned. “That’s not right.”

“What’s not right?” McFist demanded, but Viceroy had already pulled up a file on the top left corner of the screen. 

“This is the Robo-Ape’s memory identification match for the Ninja,” Viceroy said sourly.

McFist stared at it. The image was clear. Norrisville High was definitely in the background, and a ninja was definitely in the foreground.

But this ninja was bright green.

“What, is this somebody’s idea of a joke?” For a moment, his anger was forgotten in his shock, but then it came back full force. Because of this _joke_ , he’d lost his chance to get the Ninja! He’d _had_ the Ninja and let him slip through his grip! “Because _it isn’t funny_!”

“This image is completely undoctored, as far as I can tell,” Viceroy said.

“It’s green, Viceroy.” Was the man a complete idiot beneath his pseudo-intelligent exterior? “That entire ninja is _fluorescent green_.”

“I can’t explain it, sir.” At least Viceroy’s tone said he’d find the explanation immediately. “The _real_ Ninja’s identity has been changed to this Dr. Bert Rand.” Viceroy glanced up at him. “Ever heard of him?”

“How should I know who he is? You’re the scientist!”

“It is rather hard to track someone down in thirty seconds and be sure you’ve found the right person. Sir.”

“Just fix this mess!” McFist shouted. “I’ve got to….” He trailed off. Marci would be back with Bash soon. She’d given him the morning to sort out this mess with the Sorcerer, but if her guests had told her two and she was expecting them at noon, then that meant she _really_ expected him to have everything wrapped up so he was ready by ten o’clock.

He wasn’t sure he could do that.

He _really_ didn’t want to face the Sorcerer again.

Of course, last time, it had been the Sorcerer to call him at the end of the day and ream him out for failing. McFist didn’t like that plan, but he liked it better than contacting the Sorcerer and telling him now that he couldn’t get him free _today_ , that the capture of the Ninja hadn’t gone quite as planned. He had a feeling that wouldn’t go over too well.

He really didn’t want to admit that he’d _had the Ninja and had let him get away_. Not that he’d put it in those words. That wouldn’t reflect well on him; it would just give the Sorcerer more reason to doubt his partnership.

McFist glanced at the still-live feed of Norrisville High and shuddered, suddenly all too aware that the Sorcerer’s remark yesterday may have had more truth than he’d believed. _If I escape unaided by you…._ McFist hadn’t let him finish the threat, but he knew it was by no means an empty one, and now that that was even a remote possibility, his mind offered all kinds of unpleasant ways that sentence could have ended.

It was best not to think about it.

“Let me know if anything happens,” McFist ordered. “And let me know if you find anything! And _recapture the Ninja_!”

“Yes, sir.”

McFist harrumphed; if Viceroy’s tone was anything to go by, he wasn’t taking this nearly as seriously as he should. “And let me know if the Fentons capture anything.”

“Yes, sir.”

McFist grumbled but Viceroy clearly wasn’t going to pay him any more attention. “You know where to find me.” It was true. This morning, he’d been complaining about Marci’s little gathering as often as he’d gloated about how he was going to capture the Ninja and pondered precisely which superpower he should get in return; Viceroy would know _exactly_ what he was up to, which little tasks he’d rush through and which he’d spend as much time on as he could. 

He idly wondered if Viceroy had remembered to order him more moustache wax. Marci wouldn’t be happy if he had so much as a hair out of place. This was all about making a good impression, and who was he to argue with her?

“Yes, sir.”

This was going to be a really long day.

-|-

This wasn’t good. 

_None_ of this was good.

Howard could only assume Danny had been the one to get Randy away from the Robo-Ape, but things had gone downhill fast when the Ninja had just vanished.

He got that most of the students in the school had already seen Spectra, even considering she’d only been around a day. He knew she worked fast. He wasn’t exactly sure how long his session had been, but it might’ve just been five minutes. Ten, tops, but probably only five. And he knew what it had done to him.

He could see what it had done to everyone else.

Randy had snapped him out of it, but… Man, if he hadn’t, Howard knew he could’ve been stanked by now. He’d never felt so awful. And if the Sorcerer hadn’t been stanking kids when they were down before, he definitely was now. 

And the Ninja’s sudden, unexplained disappearance had set some of the kids who _hadn’t_ had a session with Spectra into panic mode. 

The number of monsters running around definitely hadn’t helped matters. And—

Was that _Heidi_?

Howard blinked; he’d never seen his sister stanked. He’d seen her turned into a demon dog, but he’d never seen her stanked.

He could live without seeing her stanked again.

“Ninja!” Howard yelled, looking around. Danny knew the situation, or at least the bare bones of it, so wherever he’d taken Randy, it wasn’t far. Which meant they were due for a huge smoke bomb entrance right about now.

“Hey, Howard! Over here!” 

Howard turned at the shout, surprised Randy would address him by name when he was the Ninja, and abruptly realized Randy was not the Ninja.

“Danny took the mask,” Randy said quickly when Howard got close enough, not even giving him a chance to ask what the cheese was going on. “But I managed to destank Theresa, so hopefully Danny realizes what he’s up against.”

Howard glanced over Randy’s shoulder and made a face. “Yeah. Robo-Apes.” One had the Ninja—presumably Danny—in its metal fist.

Randy looked and grimaced. “We better get Theresa out of there. She still looks pretty disoriented.”

“You aren’t worried about Danny?”

“I would be if I didn’t know how easily he could get out of that thing. I think this might’ve been part of the plan, though.”

“Letting the Ninja get captured? Seriously? That’s gotta be the stupidest plan I’ve ever heard.”

“Reinforcing the fact that I’m not the Ninja by letting us be seen together again,” Randy corrected. “It worked for Ranginald. Heck, it worked for Bash. It’ll work for me.”

“You realize you’re going up against Viceroy’s mind reader here?”

Randy shrugged. “Hence the reinforcement. It’ll be _fine_.”

“Yeah, but—” Howard broke off, his attention on the scene behind Randy. “Whoa, the Robo-Ape totally just let the Ninja go.”

“What, seriously?” Randy turned in time to see the smoke bomb. “Are you sure Danny didn’t just do that passing-through-solid-things thing?”

“Definitely. The Robo-Ape opened his fist.”

Randy frowned. “Why would a Robo-Ape—?”

“You guys can thank me later,” a new voice interrupted. It was Tucker. He shoved a wad of something into Randy’s hands—the mask, Howard realized—and Randy quickly stuffed it into his pocket. Or maybe his boxers. Howard wasn’t entirely sure because he hadn’t been paying _that_ much attention. “Danny couldn’t hold a duplicate for any longer, so he gave me this to pass to you. He’s gonna need you back inside.” Tucker looked around uneasily. “Or out here. Out here would work.”

“Out here would be better,” Howard agreed. “You kinda panicked some people when you just up and vanished and that definitely made things worse.”

“I need to let Danny know how to destank these guys first,” Randy said, “or we’re not gonna get anywhere. I don’t think most of them are stanked over something physical. It’s more—”

“—Spectra getting inside their heads,” Tucker cut in. “Yeah, seen it first hand—though the mutating thing was a different run-in for us. Look, if it’s easier, I can just tell Danny to focus on whatever Spectra manipulated them into thinking while you guys handle things out here. Not sure how he’ll figure that out, though. How talkative are these guys?”

Howard shrugged. “More of the ‘growl and smash’ type. Not so rant-y.”

Randy rolled his eyes. “It’s not exactly that easy, even if you do know what they fixated on. Accordion Dave told me he was going to grow to regret doing what he loved. How the cheese do you—”

“Randy?” It was Theresa. She’d gotten to her feet, seemingly fully recovered from being stanked. She glanced back at the school with a shudder and quickly walked over to them, eyes warily darting around. “I’m scared,” she confided softly. “Do you mind if I, uh….” Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed Randy’s hand.

Randy looked distinctly uncomfortable, probably because he knew he’d have to ditch her to Ninja out. Howard smirked and was sorely tempted to leave his friend in his current predicament for amusement purposes, but they kinda really needed the Ninja right now. “Hey, Fowler, you meet Foley yet?”

“Tucker,” the boy said, offering his hand. “I’m just visiting. It’s, uh, not as boring a visit as I’d thought it might be.”

Theresa managed a weak smile and shook his hand with her free one. “Theresa.” She bit her lip. “Um…welcome to Norrisville?”

There was a loud crash, followed by blaring alarms and a cry of, “My rental car!”

Tucker’s grin was much more convincing. “Quite the welcoming committee you’ve got here.” His grin fell away, and he seemed to pick up on what they needed to do—which made sense since he was also the best friend of a secret hero. “Look,” he said, straightening his glasses, “you still seem kind of shaken up. I don’t know if anywhere is exactly safe, but I’ve got a friend who can probably use someone else to keep her company over there.” He pointed in the direction of the Spectre Speeder thing, which Howard maintained was bruce on so many levels. “Think you’d mind?”

Theresa hesitated, glancing uncertainly at Randy but not releasing his hand. 

“Jazz—Tucker’s friend—is a nice girl,” Randy said in what was probably an attempt to convince Theresa to go. 

Howard figured he’d step in and save the day. “And she took a pretty bad beating earlier, before the Ninja had a chance to show. You might be able to talk to her girl-to-girl or whatever.”

“Girl-to-girl?” Theresa repeated, sounding like she was on to them.

“I believe her exact words were ‘you guys are idiots’,” Howard added for good measure. “ _Really_ didn’t get the feeling she wanted us to stick around.”

“Hey, Theresa! Tucker!”

As one, the group turned to see Debbie approaching. Howard had learned not to get _too_ offended by Debbie ignoring them when there wasn’t actually time to get offended. He’d make a big stink later—possibly quite literally, even though that wouldn’t exactly endear Debbie towards him and Randy—and for now just act mildly offended. “Hey, what about us?”

“Hey,” Debbie said dully without turning to look at them. “Tucker, Jazz wants to talk to you.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder before shifting slightly and giving Theresa a relieved look. “Glad you see you back.”

“She’s glad to be back.” With some movement Howard didn’t quite catch, Tucker had managed to pry Theresa from Randy and had hooked his arm around hers. She looked too startled to react. “But I figure we should get her to Jazz, just until she completely recovers. If you’ll join me?” He offered Debbie his other arm.

She gave him an unamused look before rolling her eyes and taking it. “Fine. But only because I can’t see the Ninja around anywhere and Jazz is by a better vantage point.”

Tucker grinned. “Just me and the ladies, going for a fine stroll— Ow!”

“Don’t push your luck.” The words were Debbie’s, even if Howard hadn’t managed to see who had hit Tucker or stepped on his foot or whatever had happened.

When they were swallowed up by the crowd, Howard turned back to Randy. “Want me to cover you?”

“And cover _for_ me,” Randy said, “if Miss Wickwhacker comes back. I still need to talk to Danny before I deal with the guys out here.”

He looked at Howard expectantly, but he should really know better by now. “I’m not playing the messenger. Messengers tend to get shot or there wouldn’t be that saying not to shoot them.” Randy opened his mouth to argue, so Howard added, “Besides, who else is going to cover for you?”

“She’s probably not even going to be looking for me in this mess,” Randy muttered, but he couldn’t entirely believe that or he wouldn’t have asked in the first place.

It didn’t take them long to edge closer to some of the bushes by the school, and it was mere seconds before the Ninja was running off to catch up with Phantom. “Just don’t take too long in there!” Howard hollered, knowing that if anyone did hear him above the noise of the rest of the crowd, they wouldn’t know what he meant. “It’s a mess out here!”

-|-

“Misery,” the Sorcerer announced. He could smell it, taste it, _feel_ it. “Hopelessness. Despair and crushed dreams. Enchantingly delicious, don’t you agree?” It had been coming in waves since the shade had begun her work, but he felt it stronger now that he had begun to utilize it.

The sewer rat scuttled a few feet closer before sitting up, sniffing the air, and chattering at him.

“Yes, yes. _And_ fear.” The rising panic of the world outside swelled within him, the terror of others sending ripples of power through him. His fingertips practically crackled with power as his usual fetid brew spun around them, shooting off through the vents or seeping up through the ground to ensnare the unsuspecting students. “It wouldn’t be the same recipe without fear. It doesn’t quite reach the right level of _chaos_ without it.” As he spoke, the last of his orbs glowed and rose to join the others in their whirling frenzy above his head.

He was missing four, and only one of those had ever been activated in any useful way since his incarceration, but he did not need them to be successful in this. They would help speed the process along, certainly. But in some things, he was patient, and even if the Ninja had been able to release one of the students, he would not be able to release them all in time. He would not be able to calm the masses, to turn his chaos into a celebration, because this time, they would not be saved.

He would get free. Once he captured the Ninja, he could imprison the young upstart in the Land of Shadows (death was perhaps too good for him; the Sorcerer hadn’t decided yet) and free the Sorceress. Together, they would be unstoppable.

Power hummed in the air, and the Sorcerer stretched toward it, laughing maniacally. This was it. _This was really it._ He was gaining enough strength to break free, to force his way out of this pit and walk the world above once more. 

The rat squeaked uncertainly. 

“Any moment now,” the Sorcerer confirmed as the brightness of the spinning spheres increased. With enough raw power, he could blast through his prison door without the key. He merely needed it to focus, needed it to—

There was blinding light, followed by a thundering roar. 

The Sorcerer was faintly aware of his rat friend scampering for cover, of the chains that had once bound him falling to clank dully against stone. Chunks of rock fell about him, cracking and skittering across his plateau or whistling by to continue falling into darkness. Dust motes swirled in the air, highlighted in the green light that pervaded the pit thanks to his power. But despite the initial searing light, despite the danger of his position, he stood in the middle of his rock with his eyes fixed on the gaping hole above. 

Distantly—oh so distantly—he could make out slowly gathering clouds. They were high above and did not yet blacken the sun, still too few and too thin, but they were there nevertheless, called by his power. It would rage. It would storm. And he would rule.

The Sorcerer knelt and offered his hand to the rat. He would need a ride, after all, and the rat would do in a pinch. The rat hesitated, and for a moment the Sorcerer thought it would be stupid enough to shake its head and try to get away, but it made the wise decision of scurrying up his arm to perch on his shoulder. 

Buoyed by the power of his orbs, the Sorcerer rose from the pit and stepped into the chaos of the upper world.


	21. Chapter 21

Frankly, Sam was not sure why she’d gotten dragged out of bed and taken to the family jet this early in the day.

They were supposed to be there for supper.

At this rate, they might even get there before lunch.

They were _flying_. It would maybe take an hour. She wasn’t exactly sure. She just knew it wouldn’t take long. It never did.

To be fair, if she hadn’t been skipping school today, she would have been up much earlier. And if she hadn’t promised Grandma Ida she’d (mostly) behave—or at least put up the pretence of doing so until her parents threatened her individuality and ability to make decisions for herself, a condition they’d technically voided when they’d shoved the pink monstrosity of a dress under her nose this morning—she’d have started applying heavy, unflattering makeup already.

Instead, she was still stuck in _pink_ and thanking whatever gods were listening that Danny and Tucker couldn’t see her right now. 

There was really no point in changing (or making key alterations) now. Her parents had clearly considered the fact that she might ‘ruin’ her dress and built extra time into their schedule. If she did it on their watch, they’d just change course, jetting off to pick up something else they deemed suitable and Sam thought gag-worthy, before continuing on their way. And given how _much_ extra time they’d given themselves, they’d clearly considered the fact that they might have to do this multiple times.

She hated dinner parties. She hated the lies and the politics and the doubletalk that ran rampant throughout the conversation under the pretence of ‘social niceties’. She hated being told to fit an expectation, being expected to lie about who she was and what she cared about and what her interests were.

She didn’t know where they were going. She didn’t know who they were meeting. She didn’t particularly care.

“Don’t scowl, Samantha. It’s not becoming of a young lady, and you’ll get wrinkles.”

Sam wasn’t in the mood for a screaming match about just being called Sam or how she didn’t want to be a ‘young lady’ if it meant she couldn’t express herself. Instead, she just clenched her fists and forced a bright, far-too-large smile on her face as she looked at her mother. “Happy?” she ground out.

“Just behave yourself, darling. Don’t cater to any of your more…eccentric tendencies.” And her mother turned back to her conversation with her father.

She was doing this for Grandma Ida. She was doing this for Grandma Ida. If she focused on that, focused on the concert that was her reward, focused on the fact that her grandmother was on her side despite pretending to bridge the division between Sam and her parents, she could keep calm. Mostly. 

But it didn’t mean she had to be happy.

Sam slumped in her seat—she really didn’t care if she wrinkled this dress; she was already envisioning how she’d make it more to her taste once they arrived if she didn’t have time to ditch it altogether—and resigned herself to twiddling her thumbs and plotting until they arrived.

She knew exactly what this was about, of course. Her parents hoped she’d take to one of the kids they introduced her to. They wanted her to make friends within her own ‘social circle’. They wanted to control her life and try to cut out her real friends, but she was never going to replace Danny and Tucker. Even if they ended up in three different cities after high school—which was very likely—they’d keep in touch and _remain friends_. She’d make sure of that.

Danny and Tucker, after all, accepted her for who she was.

Her parents did not.

They never really had, the minute she had begun to pursue her interests, interests which did not align with what they believed was proper.

The intercom dinged and the pilot warned them of possible stormy weather ahead, that they may encounter increased turbulence as they got closer to Norrisville.

Wait.

“We’re going to Norrisville?” Sam asked, sitting up. She hadn’t heard anything from Danny or Tucker since Tucker had arrived, but she’d figured that they’d just been busy and their usual forgetful selves. Now, in light of hearing of this gathering storm—when she knew there were supposed to be clear skies; that expectation had been announced when they’d taken off—and knowing that Danny was in Norrisville, she wondered if Vortex or someone else had gotten out of the Ghost Zone.

It would be just Danny’s luck.

But unless her speculations were way off base, they’d need her once she arrived. She wished she had a wrist ray with her, but the only thing she’d packed was a Fenton Lipstick. It was small, easy to sneak past her mother, and had excellent control for firing off warning shots if any idiots tried to make a move on her. 

But then again…. This was Norrisville. This wasn’t Amity Park. How much trouble could Danny and Tucker really get into when they had Jazz there to smack some sense into them?

“Samantha.” Jeremy’s tone spoke of subtle disapproval. “We were very clear about where we were going and who we were going to meet.”

McFist Industries. Had to be. Tucker had being going on and on about them. “McFist, right?”

“Hannibal McFist,” Pamela reminded her, “Marci Johnson, and her son, Bashford Johnson. It really won’t do for us to arrive and you not know their names, Samantha.”

“I won’t forget,” Sam said irritably. She wished she had some way of communicating with Danny and Tucker right now, but her cell phone had been confiscated until they landed, and her Fenton Phones—under the guise of earrings—were stowed away with her luggage. They wouldn’t necessarily help, of course. It wasn’t exactly easy to measure distance in the Ghost Zone, and they hadn’t tested the range of Fenton Phones in the Real World outside of Amity Park. But even if the range was sufficient, she had no idea if anyone would hear her even if she could sneak away to make the call.

She was stuck on this plane with no feasible way of contacting anyone until they landed.

Sam checked her watch; it was nearly quarter to ten. “When are we supposed to get there?”

“Patience is a virtue,” Pamela quoted.

Sam couldn’t stop her scowl. “Sorry.” She forced herself to sound civil. “What time are we supposed to be there? Will I have time to, uh, run off and buy something?”

Her father turned to raise his eyebrows at her. “Another can of black spray paint?”

Sam shook her head. “Bobby pins.” She really _did_ need some; she’d destroyed her last ones teaching herself to pick locks. She turned a sweet smile on her mother. “Not a hair out of place, right?”

The expression on Pamela’s face told Sam quite plainly she didn’t buy it for a second but she didn’t want to argue. “I have some in my bag you may use.”

“Please? You might need those, and I forgot to bring mine.”

“Samantha—”

“Grandma Ida would let me go,” Sam interrupted. It wasn’t a fair card to play, but it was true. “Besides, how much trouble am I going to get into by myself?”

Her parents didn’t dignify that with an answer. “You know how important this is to your mother,” Jeremy said softly. “Please, restrain yourself for one day. Make your grandmother proud.”

Sam felt her eye twitch but she forced the smile to remain. “That would be easier if I had bobby pins of my own.” She should’ve picked something more major, but it was too late in the game to switch now without being suspicious.

Even if her parents already were suspicious.

“You can run your errand with Bashford after lunch if you like, when he’s showing you around,” Pamela said, keeping her expression neutral, “but until then, you can borrow whatever you find you need from me.”

“Fine,” Sam muttered, sitting back and crossing her arms. She had no intention of keeping to those terms, but until they landed, she couldn’t do anything. 

And once they landed, she would escape before they had a chance to put her in captivity again. She might not have her cell phone or her Fenton Phones, but if something was going down, she’d be able to find the others without them. Sure, maybe she was worried over nothing, but she wasn’t going to take that chance. She’d start planning as much as she could with the little she knew, just in case—because she owed it to her friends to be there for them if they needed her.

-|-

These ghosts were different from the ghosts which frequented Amity Park.

Of course, Maddie had expected them to be. These weren’t true ghosts, after all. They were merely children transformed by a ghostly disease. It was spreading rapidly now, and she and Jack had decided ahead of time to fall back and discuss a plan with their kids if the situation took a turn for the worse. They hadn’t intended to be on the front lines like this, but they hadn’t anticipated the sudden, widespread outbreak, either.

Maddie shot the nearest ghost point blank with the Fenton Foamer, but the mixture appeared to be more of an annoyance than a deterrent. She dove and rolled away as an arm blindly swung out in her direction before getting to her feet and weaving her way back to the Spectre Speeder.

She might not have seen Danny’s friends, but she was quite certain they were here if _that_ was here. She’d talk to them about that later; right now, they could use the extra hands.

The situation was deteriorating around them. Jack had gone off in search of Danny, but Maddie didn’t know if he’d found him yet and that worried her. 

There was even a small part of her thankful that Phantom had tailed them here. She knew how he operated when faced with a threat, even if she couldn’t understand why he would come. In the process of creating untold amounts of destruction, Phantom would work to separate the diseased children from the healthy, and Maddie knew they could use that to their advantage.

She hadn’t seen him yet, but she imagined he was fighting inside the school; she had overheard enough to know that the school had been evacuated when the first students had undergone their transformation. 

The infamous Ninja of Norrisville was also inside, no doubt—though Maddie wasn’t sure whether he was working with Phantom or against him, seeing Phantom as a threat. She hadn’t studied nearly enough about him to make that particular determination. She imagined both ghosts were alike, however.

She also believed that neither ghost had enough foresight to see if they had effectively contained the disease within the school walls. Ghosts tended to have one-track minds and focused on specifics, never imagining the broader picture. It was a folly she and Jack had documented many times.

“Mom, you need to get out of here!”

Maddie turned at the shout and saw Jazz— _Jazz_ , who shouldn’t even be on her feet—staggering towards her. Her new friend, Debbie, was nowhere to be seen. Maddie hoped she had not been transformed as well.

Maddie caught her daughter as she tripped over her own feet in a manner Maddie had come to expect of her son. “Jazz, honey,” she said, manoeuvring so that Jazz could lean heavily upon her, “what were you thinking, going off on your own?”

“Never mind about me, Mom.”

“Sweetie—”

“Mom, you and Dad need to get out of here.” Jazz hesitated. “And maybe you should take me to the hospital.”

Maddie surveyed her daughter out of the corner of her eye, not sure if Jazz truly believed she needed a hospital visit or if it was just another ruse to get them to leave. 

“Do you know where your brother is?” Maddie asked, thinking that if they _did_ leave they should either take Danny with them or tell him what was happening. At least she could see Jack fighting his way back to them now, even if he wasn’t with Danny.

“Um….” Jazz’s hesitation was telltale. “I think he ran to find a drugstore.”

“Jasmine, now is a time when I need to know the truth. This situation is dangerous, and I want to be sure Danny isn’t in over his head.”

“You won’t find him here, Mom.”

“Even though his friends are here?” They had reached the Spectre Speeder. “Jack and I don’t miss as much as you think we do, honey. We know it’s not the just two of you out here.”

Jazz sighed. “Tucker’s here with us for backup,” she admitted, “but Phantom and the Ninja are the ones dealing with this.” She waved her free hand around. “This isn’t like it is back home. Nothing we have works.”

“That’s because we haven’t tried everything yet!” Jack chimed in as he reached them. 

“We can still decontaminate them,” Maddie acknowledged. “Jazz, phone your brother and tell him and his friends to meet us at McFist industries.” 

Jazz stared at them for a full ten seconds. “You’re…. We’re not going to…. Not the _biohazard_ ….” Her voice trailed off into a whine Maddie hadn’t heard from her daughter in years.

“Don’t worry, Jazzy-pants! It’ll be just like when we treated Vladdy and Danny’s friends for ecto-acne!”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Jazz muttered, but she obliging pulled out her phone to call her brother.

“Jack, you go on ahead and get things set up,” Maddie suggested. “I’m going to run Jazz to the hospital first. She’d like a second opinion.”

“You don’t want me to secure this area first?”

Maddie hesitated. She didn’t like the idea of leaving this problem to a couple of supposed town heroes, ghosts that were merely fighting for the sake of their own agendas, but this wasn’t the first time she and Jack had had to step back from a fight. All the accounts of this particular ghostly disease had led them to believe that it only infected a few individuals at a time; they weren’t prepared for a battle on this scale. As much as she was loath to admit it, they were better off leaving Phantom and the Ninja to fight the battle now while they arranged for a safe haven—surrounded by a ghost shield—for the others. 

“No,” Maddie said finally. “Take the Assault Vehicle and see if you and Mr. Viceroy can expand the radius of our portable ghost shield. You can’t secure this area on your own, and we need to establish a safe haven.” Once they had that, they could sent word to the townspeople and begin the decontamination process.

“I’m on it, baby!”

When Jack was gone, Maddie strapped herself into the Spectre Speeder and looked over at Jazz. “Is the hospital still our first stop?” she asked.

Jazz looked sheepish. “Danny and Tucker will be a while, and I could use something for my headache.”

Maddie arched an eyebrow but didn’t comment. If Jazz wanted to stick by her excuse, then Maddie would let her. Now wasn’t the time to quibble; she could have the truth later, once they were prepared. Jazz, after all, would not hesitate to rat out her little brother if he were truly in danger. Of that, Maddie was certain. Jazz would do anything to protect Danny.

Maddie just hoped Jazz had enough experience to properly judge the situation, but she knew if she couldn’t trust her children, she’d only make the growing divide between them worse, and more secrets was the last thing she wanted.

-|-

“You don’t _know_ you’ll grow to be unhappy if you keep playing the accordion,” Randy said practically, dodging as Dave took another swing at him. 

He came up beside Danny, who was holding off the other monsters in the hallway with a combination of ectoblasts and ice rays. Danny glanced over his shoulder. “You sure that’s gonna work?” The scepticism in his voice was heavy.

“Hey, destanking kids is my thing. Don’t knock it. I know what I’m doing.”

“Doesn’t look like it.”

“Just give me a couple more minutes,” Randy insisted, and he flipped out of the way of Dave’s latest swing while Danny turned intangible to avoid it.

“This isn’t gonna work forever, you know. It’s better if you’re quicker!”

Randy ignored Danny and focused on Accordion Dave. “Look, I don’t know why anyone would ever tell you that. Because if you’re doing something you enjoy, then that’s the important thing, right? And, I mean, how many other people in this school actually _know_ how to play an accordion? You’ve got your own little market niche! It’s great! And it’s not like you sound like a dying cat when you play.”

“Are you _sure_ that’s helpful?” Danny called.

“He knows it’s true,” Randy shot back. “He’s made Heidi’s hot picks.”

“Whatever.”

“C’mon, Dave, old buddy, old pal,” Randy cajoled. “Why not spend less time worrying about what probably won’t happen in the future and instead enjoying the present and building a better future for yourself? Doesn’t that sound better? I mean, you’ve gotta start somewhere, right? You just believe in yourself, and you’ll never stop loving it when you play. I mean, I’m the Ninja. I know what I’m talking about.” Truthfully, Randy was making half of it up as he said it, but on some level he did mean it and it seemed to be working because Dave had stilled and was listening to him.

The Sorcerer’s stank seemed to leave Dave with painful slowness, as if it were reluctant. Randy didn’t particularly care, because it still left him, and a win was a win.

“Dave!” Randy exclaimed brightly, as much for Danny’s benefit as for Dave’s. “Glad to have you back with us. If you just wanna take the back exit through the gym, Phantom and I will deal with these guys here.” He gave Dave a shove in the direction of the gym to start him on his way and ran back to join Danny as soon as he knew Dave had collected himself enough to leave.

“Who’s next?” Danny asked.

“Um…whoever? I never talked to these guys, so I don’t know what exactly Spectra picked on with them.”

“What, seriously?”

“Just pick someone and start guessing. You said Spectra works by picking on a person’s greatest fears and tearing down their self-esteem, right? So build ‘em back up. Should work.”

“And try not to get decapitated by some band instrument in the process.”

“Hey, that really shouldn’t worry you when you can pass through stuff, so you don’t get to complain.”

“Ghosts are so much easier to deal with than this,” Danny muttered, but he went to Flute Girl and Randy focused on Bucky.

“Hey, Buckster,” Randy said. Bucky roared at him, and Randy kept moving because a moving target was harder to hit. “Write any new songs for me? I know I said I didn’t like it at first, but your Everybody Ninj-Along song really grew on me. You wanna sing it for me now?”

He barely missed being bludgeoned with Bucky’s dinger, and he could hear Danny trying to talk to Flute Girl. “So, uh, you’ve got, um, nice teeth.” Randy couldn’t even remember if Flute Girl still _had_ teeth when she transformed. He really should—he’d had to fight her off often enough—but some things just didn’t register with him. Who notices details like that?

And who tries to destank someone by complimenting their teeth, of all things? 

“You know,” Randy continued as he chanced a roll closer to Bucky and away from Rachel and Stevens, who were both trying to grab him, “you’re pretty good at writing stuff. Maybe if you write a song, Miss Wi—uh, the band teacher will have everyone play it, and then you can have a wicked triangle solo in it. You ever think of trying that?”

Bucky paused mid-swing. “Triangle solo?” he repeated.

Randy nodded earnestly. “And all the good recognition you’d get when you played it and—awk!” He’d been too focused on Bucky to watch his back, and Stevens had gotten him with his trombone slide. Randy struggled and somehow only managed to get more tangled up in it, but something he said must’ve gotten through to Bucky, and Danny actually seemed to be having some luck with Flute Girl because she’d stopped hitting at him, too. 

But what the heck could he say to Stevens? Or Rachel?

“Um….” Randy tried to figure out how he’d gotten an arm and the opposite leg caught in the middle of the trombone slide. It was bigger than usual with the effect of the stank, but still. “You, uh, are quite the ladies’ man, aren’t you?” 

Stevens roared angrily and whipped the slide around, dislodging Randy and sending him flying into the wall.

Wrong thing to say, apparently.

But at least, since he’d gotten through to Bucky, chances were good that he didn’t need to know exactly what Spectra had said to each kid in order to destank them. He just needed to make them not miserable so that the Sorcerer didn’t have a hold over them. Danny had clearly figured that out, too, since Flute Girl was back to being Flute Girl and he had moved on to Rachel. Granted, Danny might’ve just guessed what Randy had figured out because he had a better idea of what it took to snap someone out of the funk Spectra put them in.

_“Cunningham, you still wearin’ this thing?”_

Randy blinked and reached up to turn on the microphone of his Fenton Phone. “Howard?” he asked, forgetting that anything he said would be muffled while he was wearing his mask.

It didn’t seem to matter. _“We got a honkin’ big problem. You gotta get out here.”_

“Little busy.” Randy rolled and whipped out his scarf, wrapping Stevens’ legs and tripping him.

_“You’re gonna be busier. I went around to the front of the school and the stank’s rolling out the windows and doors. It’s like someone went crazy with a smoke machine.”_

Randy winced. He should’ve known this was getting out of hand. “It’ll be fine. It’ll recede once I deal with these guys.”

_“Yeah? And what about everyone else outside?”_

“Them, too.”

“You go handle that,” Danny called over. “I’ll deal with these guys.”

Randy didn’t argue. Instead, he got to his feet and sprinted towards the Eye. He still had the Sorcerer’s Key on him, and the Sorcerer’s power ball was safely tucked away at his house, but from what Howard was saying, things were getting pretty bad and the Sorcerer wouldn’t necessarily _need_ either of those things to get out right now. Which was not something Randy wanted to think about.

He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d do once he got there, but he’d figure something out.

As he got nearer, he noticed green stank swirling like dust motes in the halls. It didn’t go after him—it acted fairly benign, considering it was stank—but he got the feeling it was watching him. That was ridiculous in itself, since if Randy had to guess, he’d bet that the Sorcerer used his power balls to spy on what was going on in the outside world. As far as he knew, green stank could only possess people. 

By the time Randy reached the Eye, he knew things were bad—the stank was thick enough to choke on and had enough substance to it that it was forcing the doors into the hallway open—but that still didn’t prepare him for what he actually saw through the haze of green.

Namely, the Sorcerer standing on the edge of the crumbling floor that had once been above his prison, a rat perched on his shoulder.

Holy cheese, it was the Sorcerer.

_It was the Sorcerer._

And this wasn’t 1213. 

Randy dove for cover behind the open doors, hoping the Sorcerer hadn’t seen him. His back had been to Randy, but…. Randy shuddered. His memories of the last time he’d faced the Sorcerer head on weren’t entirely pleasant. He’d _really_ needed First Ninja’s help, and they might’ve still been shoobed if he hadn’t made Howard get possessed by the Tengu or if Plop Plop’s timing had been off.

_The Ninja who believes in his strength alone is the weakest of all._ Had the Nomicon _really_ been referring to this? He’d eventually figured, when the message hadn’t gone away, that it had meant the entire situation with Spectra and the fiasco with McFist finding out who he was. It was, in effect, telling him that he couldn’t deal with this by himself. 

Well, that definitely applied now, because it was the honkin’ _Sorcerer_.

He was _so_ shoobed if he couldn’t seal him within, like, five minutes—which he probably couldn’t do, seeing as he had nothing to cover the Sorcerer’s pit with in the first place.

“Um, guys?” Randy tried to keep his voice down, though the Sorcerer might already know he was there. “I’m gonna need help.” Behind him, he could hear the Sorcerer begin to laugh, and he cringed. “Preferably really soon.” 

A blast of power shot upward, shattering the glass ceiling. The stank around him began to drift back to the Sorcerer, gathering into a swirling vortex— _not good, never good_ —and beginning to tear apart what was left of the room by the force of its rotation.

“Holy cheese, I’m fighting the Sorcerer today.” Randy whispered the words, intending them for himself, but then his earpiece exploded with voices cutting in on each other and he realized the mike on the Fenton Phone was _really_ good.

He couldn’t just sit here and wait. He had to do something. Try to get the Sorcerer back into the pit, maybe, and worry about sealing him then. Randy was on his feet and charging away from his hiding place before his brain had fully caught up to his body. He just needed to get the jump on the Sorcerer. With the element of surprise, he might be able to do this.

But as Randy’s feet left the ground for the kick, the rat on the Sorcerer’s shoulder noticed him and began chattering loudly, and the Sorcerer turned, and the last thing Randy saw was a wall of green light rushing toward him.


	22. Chapter 22

Tucker had steered clear of the Spectre Speeder when he saw Maddie and Jazz moving toward it, but he almost didn’t see Jack until it was too late. In Tucker’s defence, the Fenton man was fighting off some juggling monster on a unicycle. Still, it was clear enough to Tucker that Jack was working his way back to the Spectre Speeder, too. Tucker circled wide, hoping to avoid a confrontation.

Debbie noticed what he was up to, even if Theresa didn’t. “Look,” she finally said, digging her heels in, “it won’t kill you to explain this to us.”

Tucker glanced nervously at the monsters around them. This wasn’t exactly the safest spot to stop. “Uh, well, y’see—”

“Do you know who was fighting with the Ninja?” Theresa was looking at him with a keen interest now.

Tucker blinked; he hadn’t expected her to remember seeing Danny. From what Randy had told him, he’d thought the kids who’d been stanked forgot everything that had happened while they were under the Sorcerer’s influence and were a bit dazed afterwards, too. “Actually, yeah,” he admitted. “That was Phantom.”

“Phantom?” Debbie repeated, sounding as if she thought he was making it up. “Let me guess. He’s a ghost?”

“A friendly ghost,” Tucker confirmed. “Just, y’know, real. Not like Casper. Phantom usually haunts Amity Park but I guess he wanted to know what the Fentons were up to. Know thy enemy and all.”

“I can’t believe you buy into that,” Debbie said.

“Hey, my school is probably attacked by ghosts as often as your school is by monsters. Maybe more often. You think I would’ve believed this if I hadn’t seen it? Well,” Tucker amended, “do you think I would’ve believed something like this could happen and _wasn’t_ caused by ghosts? Believe me, if you’d seen what I’ve seen, you’d believe in ghosts, too.”

“He fights well with the Ninja,” Theresa said softly. 

“He’s had lots of battle practice, both on his own and in a team. He protects us like the Ninja protects you guys.”

Debbie raised her eyebrows. “And, what, all the ghosts attacking your town decided to lay off so Phantom could take a holiday?”

Tucker frowned at her. He could tell from her tone that she still didn’t entirely believe him. “He’s not the only one working to protect the town. Amity Park’ll be fine. Can’t get much worse than being sucked into the Ghost Zone, after all.”

“What?”

“Long story,” Tucker said dismissively. He watched as the Spectre Speeder took off and resigned himself to a lot more running. “Now, okay, I’ll admit Jazz is gone with her parents and took my transport with her, but we should still get going, don’t you think?”

“The Ninja will protect us,” Theresa said firmly.

“Uh huh. But the Ninja’s kinda busy, and no one can be in—” Tucker took another quick glance around but he couldn’t even begin to guess how many monsters were running amok now “—uh, so many places at once. Doesn’t it make more sense for us to book it to somewhere safer and give him less people to worry about trying to protect?”

“If we’re leaving, we should go back for Randy,” Theresa said immediately. “And, uh, Howard.”

Tucker groaned; from what he could hear over the Fenton Phones, the situation was only getting worse. He’d managed to mess up McFist’s latest attempt to snatch the Ninja, but there wasn’t a whole lot he could do when the monsters attacking the place didn’t have an ounce of technology on them _and_ were more or less unaffected by Fenton weaponry. The best thing he could do was get as many kids as far away from here as possible. He knew Mr. and Mrs. F wouldn’t have pulled out like they had unless they were planning to do something like that. He should just go help them.

It wasn’t like they didn’t know _someone_ was here once they’d found the Spectre Speeder.

“Tell you what,” Tucker said. “I’ll go back for them. Debbie, if you want answers, you’ll get some when this is over—but only if you do what I say now.”

“You’re not even from—”

“That doesn’t matter! I’m still used to these kinds of situations, and judging by the fact that the teachers are having so much trouble keeping the kids in line, I’m more used to them than you guys are.” He already has his cell phone out and was dialling Jazz’s number when he received a text from her: _Safe zone McFist Industries_.

He knew it.

Tucker cleared the call and shoved his cell phone at Debbie. “Phone Jazz if you need any more info, but for now, head to McFist Industries and take everyone you pass with you. It’s gonna be the safe zone, but it’s not going to do you any good if you aren’t in it. I’ll fill in everyone here and direct them over. Just _go_.”

“How can there even be—?”

“Phone Jazz,” Tucker repeated. “Her number’s on top. And don’t worry about me; I’ve got plenty of other ways to contact her.” The Fenton Phone he was wearing probably wasn’t one of them, though, or Jazz wouldn’t have texted him. Even if she didn’t want her parents to know how much they used them, wearing one was already a dead giveaway and it wasn’t much of a leap to think that someone else had another one.

Debbie scowled but grabbed the phone, clearly unhappy that she was taking orders from him, and Theresa was still looking in the direction they’d come, no doubt trying to spot Randy. She must have it bad for him. For her sake, Tucker hoped Randy wasn’t as clueless as Danny when it came to those things.

“I’m going to send more people your way,” Tucker said, giving the girls a shove, “so it’ll be better for all of us if you guys get there first. Debbie, you’ve met the Fentons. They’ll explain; they organized everything in our last town emergency, so they know the drill.”

“Does Mr. McFist even know what you guys are planning to do to his head office?”

Tucker grinned. “If he doesn’t, he’ll find out pretty soon.”

-|-

Randy blearily blinked open his eyes. The world was a haze of green, tinged with purple at the corner of his vision. He sat up, and his stomach sank.

He was in the pit.

It wasn’t as bad as being sucked into the Land of Shadows, but—

Wait.

Wasn’t this thing supposed to be bottomless?

Looking up, he could see the Sorcerer at the edge of the opening, coaxing the stank above Randy into a thickening seal—probably so he couldn’t just pull out his chain sickle and climb out using all the broken pipes. Around him, he could see the shackles that had once held the Sorcerer, a few pebbles, and several large chunks of masonry that he was pretty sure were from the floor of the school. At the edge of his rock, though…. 

Randy carefully crawled to the edge and peered over, seeing nothing but spiralling darkness in shades of purple and black. Carefully, he sent a pebble over the edge, counting under his breath. He never heard it land, so he found a baseball-sized rock and dropped it over, too. 

Nothing.

Randy quickly scooted back to the centre of his rock. There had to be a way out of here. Down was definitely out. Up…. He doubted the Sorcerer was going to let him go up. But maybe, if he tried swinging from pipe to pipe, he might find a way out of this cavern? The Sorcerer had always been chained up; it’s not like _he_ had ever had a chance to explore.

But if he fell, he was definitely dead.

“The Sorcerer’s loose, guys,” Randy said into his Fenton Phone. “He blasted his way out and knocked me into the pit. But, look, you’ve really gotta watch your back with him, because he can stank _anyone_ when he’s at full power. It doesn’t have to be someone who’s miserable or humiliated or anything.” He was saying this for the benefit of the Amity Park folk, not Howard. 

_“Where’s the pit?”_ Danny asked.

“Under the Eye,” Randy replied. “The Carp’s Eye in the mural. The one at the main entrance. But the Sorcerer’s here right now, and as far as I know, he doesn’t know about you, so that’s about the only advantage we’ve got. I think he’ll leave once he seals off the hole. I’ll figure some way out, so don’t worry about me. Just see if you can keep track of who the Sorcerer stanks now, because if they’re anything like the battle rats I fought last time, a good hit will knock the stank out of them.”

_“Battle rats?”_ Danny repeated.

_“Long story.”_ That was Howard. _“The Sorcerer’s already taken out, like, the front of the school. If you guys thought it was bad out here before, it’s worse.”_

_“I’ve talked to the teachers,”_ Tucker interjected, _“and they’re going to try to get the remaining kids organized and downtown. Mr. and Mrs. Fenton are setting up a safe zone at McFist’s headquarters.”_

“How can they set up a safe zone?” Randy asked, incredulous. “This is _the Sorcerer_ we’re talking about!”

_“Don’t underestimate them. They did a good job of keeping everyone in town safe from Pariah Dark, and he’s the king of the Ghost Zone.”_

“But the Sorcerer’s _not a ghost_.”

_“If you don’t tell that to Jack Fenton, he’ll figure something out. He’s good like that. Remember, Danny’s parents built a portal to the Ghost Zone in the first place, and people thought that was impossible.”_

_“Debate it later, guys,”_ Danny interrupted. _“Tuck, make sure things are running as smoothly as possible. Try to get everyone else away before you go yourself, if you think it’s safe enough to do that. Just trust your judgement. Howard, you have any experience destanking kids?”_

_“I’m better with the robots.”_

_“He can work on his sister,”_ Tucker put in. _“Pretty sure that was your sister, right? She looked kinda like you.”_

_“Great. Howard, try to raise the spirits of anyone you can. Might as well get as many kids back to normal as we can before the Sorcerer makes his move. Randy?”_

Randy felt a little foolish letting Danny take the lead on this, but while he could imagine what was going on above him, he didn’t have any visual on it. “Yeah?”

_“Hang tight.”_

“As opposed to what, throw myself over the edge and see if I end up in the Land of Shadows?”

_“The Land of—? Never mind. Just stay there. And maybe don’t touch anything, if there’s anything to touch. You don’t know what the Sorcerer might’ve done to it.”_

“You speaking from experience or something?”

_“He can just shloomp on it and see if the Nomicon has any great ideas now that the Sorcerer’s out,”_ Howard said before Danny could reply. 

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” Randy admitted. It was the most obvious thing in the world; he couldn’t believe it hadn’t occurred to him before. “The Nomicon should even be quick about it considering it’s the Sorcerer.” And this time, the pages wouldn’t be blank because the future—well, the past—was very much intact. Randy pulled out the Nomicon, paused just long enough to be confident that things wouldn’t go completely sideways while he was in there, and opened the book.

The first thing he saw once he drifted again amongst endless symbols was a very familiar message: **THE NINJA WHO BELIEVES IN HIS STRENGTH ALONE IS THE WEAKEST OF ALL**.

“Come _on_ , Nomicon. The Sorcerer’s out! You’ve _gotta_ have more for me than that.” Randy crossed his arms. He wasn’t going to take this. He wasn’t leaving until the Nomicon gave him something useful.

Besides, if he didn’t take a stand, he might break down and panic, and that wouldn’t do anyone any good, least of all his friends.

The words in front of him shimmered before bursting, and Randy was caught up in the sudden torrent of wind. He didn’t stop until he smacked into the temple roof and tumbled back to the ground, but once he realized where he was, he felt hopeful. He’d been here before, after the last time. He peered up eagerly at the painted mural of the Sorcerer, the Tengu, and himself and First Ninja with Howard and Plop Plop. Last time, First Ninja had left the painting of the sealing and given him a Tengu feather—because it was now Randy’s turn to write history. 

Okay, so he’d kind of messed that up. Again. But since First Ninja had actually written everything down in the Nomicon like Randy had asked, maybe he knew of someone else who had messed up in the past.

“First Ninja?” Randy called uncertainly when nothing happened. “Hey, I’m ready for some of your crazy Nomicon jabber over here.” After a beat, he added, “Uh, please?”

There was a whooshing sound behind him, and Randy turned. The words he had seen earlier—too many times, now—had reappeared.

That totally wasn’t fair.

Randy turned back and looked up at the painting just in time to see the left Ninja glow—which made no sense, because that was the one representing _him_ —and was about to open his mouth when Danny (looking like his human self) fell through the painting and hit the ground.

“Ow….” Danny muttered, sitting back and rubbing his knees.

Randy stared at him for a few seconds, too stunned to speak. Finally, he croaked, “What the juice are you doing here?”

“No idea,” Danny said, climbing to his feet. “I don’t even know why I’m not in ghost mode anymore. I was just coming to get you and—” He broke off and gaped, finally taking in his surroundings. “Where are we?”

“The Nomicon.”

“I thought it was a book!”

“It is. It’s just….” Randy shrugged. “More interactive than most books.”

Danny glanced at the words behind Randy. “‘The Ninja who believes in his strength alone is the weakest of all’?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault that’s all it wants to tell me. It’s been saying that since, well, since before I ever saw Spectra, anyway.”

“Huh.” Danny looked around again. “So how does time work in here? Can you, like, spend loads of time in here and next to nothing passes, y’know, outside?”

“What?” It was more of an automatic response than a question, because Randy’s brain soon caught up with his mouth. “No. It’s the same. I think. How is that your first question?”

“Technically, my first question was ‘where are we?’.”

“You know what I mean!”

It was Danny’s turn to shrug. “I’ve run into a lot of things, including time travel and alternate dimensions. Not as good as it sounds, believe me.”

Randy glanced up at the mural. “Eh, it’s not so bad if you don’t wonk up the future or anything.”

Danny froze. “What? Seriously?”

“The Sorcerer’s gotten out before.” Randy pointed up at the mural. “Well, not exactly. I kinda wonked up First Ninja’s plan to seal him in the first place. I had to turn Howard into a bird demon to set things right, but since First Ninja and Plop Plop came back to help, it worked. I was hoping First Ninja would help again, at least by offering some _real_ advice—” he glared pointedly at the words still hanging in the air “—but I guess that’s all he wants to tell me.”

“Maybe it’s all you need to know.” Danny rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve run into a bunch of ghosts—” He broke off. “Never mind. If time’s moving at the same pace, we don’t have time for talking. How do we get out of here?”

“Reverse falling?” Randy didn’t actually know. It was never consistent.

“Reverse—?”

“Sometimes actually falling, but there’s no drop off here. And, I mean, sometimes I’m about to get sliced in half or crushed or something, so it’s kinda hard to say.”

Danny just stared at him.

“Okay, Nomicon,” Randy called, turning slowly on his heel, “we get it. We’ll work together. We’re ready!”

Nothing.

This was _so_ not fair. The Sorcerer could be doing _anything_ out there.

“Maybe try flying us out?” Randy suggested, looking back at Danny. He’d never been able to try something like that, obviously, but it might work. Reverse falling and all.

Danny wasn’t paying attention to him anymore, though. He was frowning at something over Randy’s shoulder—something which probably hadn’t been there three seconds ago. A dragon, maybe? Danny probably wasn’t used to dragons.

Then again, he had a vague recollection of Jazz saying something about a dragon, so who knew what Danny had run into?

“‘The reflection becomes what it is expected to be’?” Danny read. 

Randy glanced over his shoulder. The Nomicon’s message had changed again, but it still wasn’t anything new. “It was saying that when you showed up,” he said. “I didn’t get it at the time, but it’s pretty obvious now. I thought you were McFist’s lackey. Some kid he’d brainwashed or something. Not, y’know, like me.”

“Yeah, well, I thought you were a ghost. The Ninja, I mean. We were both making assumptions.” Danny was still frowning. He reminded Randy of Jazz in that moment—which made sense, them being siblings. He wondered if Danny knew just how much Jazz had rubbed off on him. “Reflection….” He muttered.

“You gonna share?”

“Just…mirrored circumstances. Reminds me of something. Long story.” Danny bit his lip— _just like Jazz_ —and turned from the Nomicon’s words to look fully at Randy. “Maybe we need to beat the Sorcerer at his own game.”

Randy raised an eyebrow. “What, causing the world to descend into complete and utter chaos?”

Danny shook his head. “No, you said it yourself, earlier. The Sorcerer doesn’t know about me.”

“And that relates to beating him how?”

“We might not be the only ones making assumptions.”

“Huh?”

“We can do exactly what he thinks we will, except not.”

Randy looked at him blankly. “You aren’t normally the guy coming up with the plans, are you?”

Danny shot him an annoyed look but didn’t deny it. “Look, I can’t shapeshift or anything like Bertrand can, but if you let me overshadow you, we might be able to pull one over on the Sorcerer. You’ve fought him before, I get that, and I haven’t, so I definitely won’t be taking full control.”

Randy really wasn’t sure he liked the sound of this. It didn’t sound like the sort of thing he’d pulled with Howard when he’d exploited the little fact that the Tengu and the Ninja Suit were forever linked. It sounded entirely too much like what Danny had done to Tucker or what had happened to Debbie. “Have you tried something like that before?”

Danny hesitated. “No?” It came out like a question, which was less than comforting. “But I’ve fought a wishing ghost, and Desiree has magic like the Sorcerer does. I’m not completely blind when it comes to that.”

Now couldn’t be the time to ask, so Randy opted for a different question. “How did you get that crazy idea from _that_?” he asked, waving a hand at the Nomicon’s message.

“Reflections,” Danny answered. “You said it yourself, more or less. We were both wrong about each other, making assumptions, so we’re reflected in each other, right? And the reflection becomes what you expect it to be, and we have to work together if we want to even have a chance at fixing this. So if we _literally_ merge our reflections by having me overshadow you, and the Sorcerer is just expecting you—”

“No honkin’ way.” Randy might not be sure what the solution was, but it couldn’t be that. That was just a recipe for disaster. “You just aren’t used to dissecting Nomicon jibber jabber.”

“I’m used to dissecting Jazz’s jibber jabber,” Danny retorted. “Believe it or not, it’s not that different.”

“We try something stupid like that, and we’ll wind up in the Land of Shadows in place of the Sorceress!”

Danny frowned. “The Sorceress?”

“Yeah. The Sorceress. Same agenda as the Sorcerer, just got sucked into a different dimension instead of trapped in a pit. And she’s gotten out before, and probably one of the first things the Sorcerer is going to do is try to free her, especially now that he’s thrown _me_ in the pit and I can’t stop him.”

“It’s a different dimension? Like the Ghost Zone?” Danny paused. “ _Is_ it the Ghost Zone? I mean, that could explain how she got out. Natural portals. It would’ve taken her ages to find one opening in the time and place she wanted. Some of the portals just lead to different places in the Ghost Zone, and the doors—”

“No, trust me, if the Land of the Shadows was the Ghost Zone and you’ve been _in_ the Ghost Zone, you would’ve heard of her. She’s subtle only until she makes a bid for power, which she would’ve done if it would’ve helped her get out.”

“Not necessarily. The Ghost Zone—”

“That’s not the point!” Randy cried. “We’ll have a much better shot if we release the Tengu again and just fight.”

Danny scrunched up his nose. “You’ve mentioned the Tengu a few times. Bird demon, I get it, but how do you release it?”

“Break open the Tengu Stone,” Randy replied instantly. “The Eye, the stone that you would’ve seen in the carp in the mural.” Howard wouldn’t be impressed, but desperate times and all. Randy hadn’t promised he’d never do it again.

“Yeah, but…where is it? I never saw anything on my way down here, and this place is basically right beneath where it was.”

Oh. Right. Randy didn’t know, either. He groaned. If the Sorcerer had it, they were shoobed. “Fine, so we’ll be without the Stone until we can find it. But I don’t want you possessing me.” That was _way_ too similar to what the Sorcerer’s stank did to everyone else.

Although….

“Actually,” Randy said slowly, “maybe that would work.”

“Maybe what would work?”

“You possessing people. Other people, not me.”

Danny scowled. “It might work. It’s not like we’ve never fought together.”

“Yeah, _separately_. Big difference. Look, I wanna test a theory. Once we get out of here, we need to find someone who’s stanked.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

“Plan B.”

“Which is what, _my_ plan?”

“Which is whatever we end up doing because we don’t know what to do.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Fine. I still think we should give my plan a shot, though. I might still be a C student, but not everything I come up with is doomed to failure.”

“Fine, if we’re desperate, we’ll try your plan. Happy?”

Danny didn’t reply, though. Judging by the look on his face, he had felt the same thing Randy had: a slight shift, not just beneath their feet but everywhere. Their surroundings began to crumble, and in the next breath, the world of the Nomicon had melted away.

-|-

“You want to _what_?” Viceroy repeated, not entirely sure he’d heard correctly the first time.

“We’re setting up camp,” Jack Fenton announced enthusiastically. “Right here. Big warehouse, lots of space. It’s perfect.”

It was far from perfect. When Viceroy had received an alert that Jack Fenton was in the storage-room-turned-display-area, he hadn’t expected to come down and find him setting up chairs and tables and—where had he even gotten that medical equipment? Or the surveillance and broadcasting equipment, for that matter? Surely they hadn’t brought it with them?

“You can’t—” Viceroy broke off, well enough versed in reading McFist’s expressions to know that Jack wouldn’t listen to him. “Why?”

“Major ghostly disease outbreak.” The man actually sounded excited by this idea. “Looks highly contagious, at least among teenagers, but we’re going to set up a quarantine zone and a disease-free zone. Here,” Jack added, shoving something heavy, metal, and vaguely box-like into Viceroy’s arms, “I’m going to need your help hooking up the Fenton Amplifier to the Fenton Ghost Shield. I’ve been working on a new Fenton Splitter attachment, too, and we’ll see if it works and enables us to form separate compartments within the Ghost Shield!”

Perhaps, on the surface, Jack Fenton’s idea might have some merit, but Viceroy knew of one very large, very fatal flaw in his entire plan.

He might not have been with them on their little ghost hunt yesterday, but he could put together the pieces. An outbreak of a disease that seemed to be targeting teenagers, no doubt ones found at the high school where they were easy prey for the Sorcerer? The only ghost that might be remotely involved would be Danny Phantom. Against everyone else…. Well, that ghost shield of theirs would hardly work.

“What if it’s not a ghostly disease?” Viceroy asked.

“Of course it is! What else is it going to be?” Jack didn’t even consider another possibility. He was digging through another box—were those more HAZMAT suits?—in the search for who knew what. “You can attach the Fenton Amplifier to the highest point on this building that has power running to it,” he added, not looking up. “Doesn’t matter if that’s inside or out with the Ghost Shield. I’ve set the relay frequency and tested it, and the amplifier will pick up the Ghost Shield just fine. But we want as wide a spread as possible, so put ‘er up high and charge that baby up!”

Viceroy wasn’t convinced this machine wouldn’t cause a power surge and shut down the main power supply in the entire building once he attached it and turned it on, but he turned to do what Jack asked anyway. It was rare that those affected by the Sorcerer went far from the place of initial influence, and if they did, there was little they couldn’t break apart even with the power systems fully functioning. 

Marci would be less than amused, should her guests arrive and she couldn’t put on her show, but if he caused a fuss by arguing with Jack, he’d hear it from McFist either way if it got back to his wife. Of course, if this worked, Marci’s guests would either be terribly impressed or quite alarmed by the display, so it was still a gamble. But Viceroy knew his job and vacation time were safe, however much McFist threatened otherwise, so he was willing to take the risk.

By the time Viceroy returned to the storage area, it had been completely transformed. The assorted media equipment was set up in one corner. Opposite it, on the cleared tables Jack had been organizing chairs around earlier, were plates of cookies and fudge. Informational posters on ghosts were taped to the wall by the table on which the Fenton weapons were displayed. A first aid station had been erected next to it (something Viceroy found rather telling) and more complicated machines were sitting ready near empty beds. At the moment, Jack was in the process of putting up large sheets of plastic around the entire area to separate the sick bay from the rest of the room.

To be fair, only part of the room had been redecorated, but the redecoration was radical and Viceroy hadn’t known Jack could move that fast, nor with such purpose. He was impressed in spite of himself. “Have you done this before, Mr. Fenton?” he found himself asking.

“Back home,” Jack acknowledged. “Maddie’ll pitch in when she gets back and fix up all the details. Jazz, too, if she’s feeling up to it.” He nodded at a stack of small gadgets near the outside door that Viceroy couldn’t identify. “You mind enlisting those robots of yours to run those out and set ‘em up every few blocks? It’s the closest thing we brought to an advanced warning system. It’s not fully tested, but now’s a good a time as any. They’re easy to turn on; just press the top button.”

“I’ll get right on that,” Viceroy murmured, relaying the command through his McFist Pad. When he had first met Jack and Maddie Fenton, he would have never expected this of them. He had thought them foolish for their belief in ghosts, more weird than eccentric, and lucky that they had managed to design anything that didn’t blow up in their faces. As time wore on, however, he saw more and more about them, and he thought their daughter far less rash for her initial outburst. 

If Norrisville really were in danger—if there really were a ghostly disease spreading throughout the population as opposed to the Sorcerer’s influence—then they would be incredibly fortunate to have the Fentons on their side.

As it was, however, this would fall flat, and he would soon be watching Jack and Maddie scramble to shore up defences that would never stand against the Sorcerer’s power.

“I’ll just verify your connections,” Viceroy said, walking over to the media station. “You don’t have all the security passcodes you’ll need.” From there, he could at least put in a few sensors that would give them real warning of the spread of the Sorcerer’s influence and Jack and Maddie might not have to spend months trying to fix something that wasn’t even broken. Besides, it would help him pinpoint the Ninja’s location as he moved to fight off the monsters.

“Sounds great, V-Man!” Jack’s words were as chipper as McFist’s ever were when they came up with a new way to destroy the Ninja, a plan that seemed doomed to inevitable failure. Viceroy’s heart skipped a beat as a chill swept over him and he was suddenly, inexplicably, left with the uncomfortable feeling that he’d be wishing before long that this would work when he knew—he _knew_ , because they were dealing with the Sorcerer’s monsters and not a ghostly disease, whatever the Fentons believed—these preparations were for nought .This ghost shield contraption might be strong as steel when it came to ghosts, but it might as well be a soap bubble next to the Sorcerer’s power; however strong it might look, it would burst and leave them defenceless.

Viceroy just hoped he could capture the Ninja before things got out of hand and he’d _need_ the protection the Fentons wanted to offer everyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone has read anything else I've written and was wondering, yes, that _was_ a reference to my DP/American Dragon:Jake Long fic [_Mirrored_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/680908/chapters/1248895), but no, there will be no cameos or anything more substantial than that.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [BlackInkGhost](http://blackinkghost.deviantart.com/) has started sketching out this story [here](http://blackinkghost.deviantart.com/gallery/56476111/Reflections). If you’re interested, give it a look and let her know what you think.

Danny jerked back to reality, finding himself back in the underground cavern lit faintly with greens and purples that vaguely reminded him of the Ghost Zone. His own ghostly glow seemed to be swallowed up by the other light, dim as it was. Beside him, Randy sat up, wiped at his mouth—an automatic reaction, maybe? He was still wearing the Ninja Mask—and closed the Nomicon. Danny eyed it suspiciously. He’d come over to shake Randy back to reality; he’d never expected to slip into the book with him.

That’s what he got for being curious enough to take a look once the seemingly unopenable book was open.

“How’d you get down here, anyway?” Randy asked. “The Sorcerer sealed off the entrance.” He gestured vaguely upwards with one hand as he tucked the book away with the other. The green seal overhead still pulsed with the Sorcerer’s magic.

Danny just shrugged. “Wasn’t hard. I’m half ghost, remember? Intangibility can be a wonderful thing, and it’s not like there’s a ghost shield up.” He couldn’t hear anything from his Fenton Phone, so he turned his mike back on. “Tuck? What’s the situation?”

 _“Barely controlled chaos?”_ It sounded more like a question than an answer. _“Not good, anyway. I told the teachers the plan about the safe zone, and they began passing that info out as best they could, but then this tornado came out of nowhere—I thought it was Vortex for a second—and then the Sorcerer was on top of the school and things went downhill fast. He got a lot of kids.”_

“How’s Howard?” Randy asked. He didn’t have his mike on—Danny couldn’t hear the echo he would have if Randy did—so Danny repeated the question.

_“Tried your advice. Didn’t work. At least, not on Heidi. But she’s always had issues. Got Juggo back to normal, though, and Doug and a couple of other kids. But a lot of them are following the Sorcerer. Judging by the light show, they’re halfway to downtown.”_

_“I can confirm that. I’m trying to follow at a distance. Most townspeople are holed up inside, maybe used to this kind of thing from all the monster attacks or something, but the Sorcerer’s still gotten some of the people who were on the street or fleeing their cars.”_

“Heard anything from Jazz? She’s been quiet for a while.” If she’d said anything while they were in the Nomicon, Danny doubted they would have heard it.

_“I don’t think she’s wearing a Fenton Phone anymore. I’ve gotten a couple of texts. Last I heard, she made a last minute decision to forego the hospital visit and head straight for McFist Industries. Makes sense when you think about it; the Sorcerer’s not going to hit them first if McFist is working for him.”_

“Right. Well, we’re coming topside.” Danny glanced at Randy. “Where’s the nearest stanked kid that you guys can see?”

Howard was the one to answer. _“Uh, that would be Heidi. I’ve been keeping her cornered with that lipstick laser thing you guys gave me, but I’m pretty sure I can’t keep her here much longer.”_

“We’re on it. We’re gonna try something.” Danny turned his mike back off and held out his hand. “You ready?”

“Are you kidding? It’s _way_ past Ninja-o’-Clock.”

Danny decided not to comment and instead grabbed Randy’s hand and got them out of there. Considering he was letting Randy dangle, he was a surprisingly good passenger; he didn’t squirm or squeal like Jazz had the first time Danny had done that to her. Danny let him down gently behind Howard when they spotted him and what must have been Heidi. Danny eyed the monster warily; it did not look happy.

“Okay, what’s the plan, exactly?” Danny asked, not liking the sounds coming from the Heidi-monster’s throat.

“Possess her,” Randy said immediately. 

“What good is overshadowing her gonna do?”

“Well, the Sorcerer’s stank is possessing her, so just…possess her instead. Overshadow her and push it out.”

Danny considered this; it might work. He’d had similar struggles, fighting for possession of a body. It couldn’t be any harder than trying to push Poindexter out of his own body or Tucker out of Paulina’s. With one last wary glance, he dove into Heidi.

When he was pushed out about thirty seconds later, Danny still wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting.

“What was that supposed to be?” Randy asked.

Danny rubbed his head and groaned; he’d hit the ground face first, and that was never fun. Getting back to his feet, he said, “The Sorcerer gets people when they’re down, right? It’s like they don’t have the will to fight him off.”

“Apparently she could still fight you off,” Howard said, sending a warning blast toward his sister with the Fenton Lipstick.

Danny shook his head. “It’s not her. She’s doing the equivalent of sulking in a corner, closing her eyes and covering her ears and pretending none of this is happening. That’s probably why you can’t get through to her. Have you said something you think she’d listen to?”

Howard snorted. “She’s my sister. You think she listens to me?”

“Good point,” Danny allowed. 

“Even when I compliment her like you guys said to, it comes out sounding like I’m making fun of her,” Howard added. “Probably because every other time, I am.”

That was familiar, too. Unfortunately. Danny nodded and turned to Randy. “Good news is, I think I’ve got an idea of how the Sorcerer’s magic works. Desiree, that wishing ghost I mentioned? She pulled something like this with Tucker. He was jealous of my powers after I got them and got control of them, and I didn’t really help matters. He wished for powers, too, and he got them—only it started to turn him into a powerful, evil ghost, and fighting him was a losing battle for me.”

Randy blinked at him. “So—?”

“So even when I told Tucker what was happening, he didn’t want to fight it. He didn’t realize what he’d become, and I think a part of him liked it too much to want to give it up.”

“Pretty sure Heidi isn’t a fan of how she looks right now,” Howard said bluntly.

“That’s not my point.”

“So what _is_ your point?”

“That these guys—the kids who are stanked, at least the ones who were before the Sorcerer got out—just don’t have the will to fight him off. Believe me, I know how Spectra can wear people down. If the Sorcerer is using people’s weaknesses and fears and everything else against them, then he’s attacking when they’re vulnerable. When they aren’t confident enough to fight him. And then he takes over, so he’s in control, not them.”

“Yeah, and that’s when they’re stanked,” Randy said slowly, “but—”

“But that hold the Sorcerer has over them is _strong_ , stronger than their will.”

Randy scratched his head. “But normally I have to destroy whatever someone holds most dear to destank them.”

“Probably because when you do destroy it, people realize that it’s not the be all and end all they thought it was or that they were overreacting or something.” Danny shrugged. “Fixating on something that strongly when it’s actually pretty insignificant in the long wrong isn’t healthy. Ask Jazz if you don’t believe me. But when Desiree got to Tucker, his jealousy was transforming him, turning him into a monster. Tucker only realized afterwards how bad it got. It gave him some perspective that what I’ve got isn’t as good as it sounds.”

“I dunno, it sounds pretty bruce to me,” Howard commented. “You can do a lot of things with those powers of yours.”

Danny gave him a withering look. “My grades suck, so I probably won’t get into the space program; I have to lie to everyone when I’m a terrible liar; one of the girls I used to date keeps trying to destroy my ghost half; ghosts break out of the Ghost Zone just to attack me—one of which wants me as a pelt, by the way—and, best of all, my parents want to rip me apart molecule by molecule, something which could very well happen by accident because they insist on demonstrating all their new ghost hunting inventions over dinner, which is inedible if it’s been near the fridge because somehow the ecto-samples never stay in the biohazard compartment Mom installed.” He took a deep breath, and despite himself, he smiled. “Flying’s pretty cool, though.”

“Uh huh.” Randy pointed at Heidi, no doubt as much to bring the conversation back to what was important as to save Howard from coming up with a response. “So how do we destank her if compliments ain’t gonna work?”

“They still should if you’re sincere. We need to build up her confidence, give her back her will to fight. The Sorcerer’s got a tight hold on her right now, and probably everyone else, too. His will is stronger than hers, and I can’t wrestle him away from her and push him out unless she’s gonna fight back, too. But if we remind her of what she’s got, well, she should be able to throw him off herself.”

Randy’s eyes went wide. “Oh, man. I can’t believe I forgot! ‘Hope is the light that vanquishes all shadows’! And Spectra’s basically a shadow, right, and her words cast them. I should’ve realized that before.” 

Danny glanced at Howard, and Howard shrugged. “He does that kind of thing.”

Randy ignored them, looking instead at Heidi, and he suddenly looked less certain than he had a moment before. “Um…. You know, if you keep at this broadcasting thing, you’ll leave Norrisville far behind, right? You’re not gonna end up like your mom except in the good ways.” He didn’t continue, and Danny couldn’t tell if he was out of ideas for what to say or trying to figure out one of the ‘good ways’ Heidi would be like her mother.

He wasn’t sure if that said more about the family or Randy’s dismal observational skills and inability to get his point across well. Since he’d never met Howard’s mom, he was going to go with Randy’s observational skills.

“Slimovitz will definitely give you your job back if you asked for it,” Howard added. “McFist would lean on him if he didn’t. He’s a big fan, remember.”

It seemed to be working—Heidi had stopped growling at them, at any rate—so Danny left them to it and flew up for a good view. If he heard shouting, he’d go back, but—

Danny hovered in the air and just stared. The front half of the school was completely missing, the dark of the pit hidden by the bright green of the Sorcerer’s magic. It looked worse up above than it did at ground level. He hadn’t flown up this high with Randy, and while he’d known the destruction was bad, he hadn’t been looking for it before. Now that he _was_ ….

He’d actually expected a clear path of destruction leading straight to the Sorcerer, but the damage was mostly limited to street level and wasn’t much worse than the level of destruction he’d expect to see after his dad had been driving. 

He couldn’t see any signs of the tornado Tucker had mentioned, but considering how it had clouded up in a matter of minutes, thinking of Vortex probably hadn’t been that far off. To be fair, the ever-darkening clouds weren’t crackling with lightning yet, but he could see the dull green reflection of the Sorcerer’s magic reflected off the clouds as easily as he could Amity Park’s city lights on a cloudy night back home when a ghost fight took him out of town. And considering it wasn’t night, the darker clouds were more likely concentrated above the Sorcerer, which meant….

This wasn’t going to be easy, was it?

Something gleamed in the corner of Danny’s vision, and he turned his head toward a faint glow in the distance. He frowned; it looked like it was coming from somewhere near that mountain that he’d only done a quick fly over the second time he’d done a scout of Norrisville—giving the swamp a wide berth, of course. And, actually, now that he looked, he could see other faint glows, nothing more than pinpricks of ectoplasm-green light, but—

Danny frowned. One of them looked like it was coming from the direction of Randy’s house, but everything else seemed fairly spaced out. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. He might not have much experience with sorcerers—fine, so Desiree was really the only one who counted—but considering it all looked to be the same shade of green as the Sorcerer’s magic, it probably had something to do with whatever he was doing. 

Truth be told, Danny wasn’t entirely sure what the Sorcerer was doing. Most likely, cackling like an evil maniac while terrorizing—and, in his case, transforming—innocent townspeople. That seemed to be par for the course among most of the ghosts Danny had fought, and he kinda doubted the Sorcerer would be very different. He should ask Randy about the lights, though. He might know what they were and whether or not they were about to blow Norrisville off the map or anything like that.

Heck, only one light was coming from in town; the other two were spread out in opposite directions. For all Danny knew, they were intended to suck the entire town into the Land of Shadows—which, if it really was the Ghost Zone (or a subsection of it) like he suspected, wouldn’t actually be as bad as it could be. There were ways to come back from that, after all.

Danny glanced down in time to see a swirl of green—the Sorcerer’s magic—disappearing from Heidi as she was returned to her normal form. Howard was legging it around the corner of the school so his sister would just think the Ninja had helped her. Danny had given up trying to resemble a normal kid for the general population of Norrisville once the Sorcerer had begun his attack, so he had no qualms about flying down to land right in front of Heidi.

“Hey, Ninja,” Danny asked, “do you know of anything the Sorcerer stashed away around Norrisville? Because whatever it is, I’m pretty sure it’s active.”

“Uh—”

“There’s something out by the mountain, the lake, _a neighbourhood in the city_ ….” Danny looked pointedly at Randy as he said that, making it as clear as he could that it was his own neighbourhood.

Randy’s eyes went wide. “How many are there? Four?”

Danny blinked. “No, three. Are there supposed to be four? Do you know what it is?”

“It’s the Sorcerer’s power balls. They were flung to the four corners of Norrisville—” Randy broke off. “Never mind. I’ve got the one from the swamp, but the other three hadn’t been found yet. One might’ve been found by someone else if you can’t spot it, though.”

“Well, the rest will be found now. Think you can handle this for a while? I want to head out to one of them and see what we’re up against.”

“Be careful. They’re evil and practically have a mind of their own even when they’re not under the direct control of the Sorcerer. If you’re not careful, you might end up under their control and handing them to the Sorcerer himself or trying to open a portal to the Land of Shadows or something.”

Danny frowned, suddenly a lot less keen on looking into these things, but he could get to them—all of them, if necessary—a lot faster than Randy could. Besides, Randy had a much better idea of what he was up against when it came to the Sorcerer. “Right. I’ll check it out.” He looked back at Heidi, who had apparently gotten over whatever confusion she’d felt and was now staring at him open-mouthed. “There’s a safe house at the headquarters of McFist Industries,” he said helpfully. “See if you can make your way there without running into trouble.”

“I— You—” Heidi spluttered for a moment. “Who _are_ you?”

Danny grinned. “Call me Phantom. I’m a friend of the Ninja’s. Just visiting. Nice town you have here, when you’re not under attack.” He gave her a mock salute and took to the air, and he overheard enough to know that she had recovered her tongue and was grilling the Ninja for answers. It wouldn’t last long; he could see Howard making his return, and Randy could use a smoke bomb to disguise his retreat if it came to it. 

Danny took one last look at the Sorcerer and the storm building above him before flying rapidly in the opposite direction, hoping that leaving the fighting to Randy for the time being was the right thing to do.

-|-

Maddie was quite convinced that the idea to let her children out into the field more or less unsupervised was one of the worst she had ever had. Jazz, the sensible one, was injured and torn between pushing herself harder and pretending to be worse off than she truly was in an effort to deflect their attention from Danny. Danny, who was still out in the field with his own handful of weapons and who was clearly not as skittish around ghosts as they’d thought if the help he and Jazz had decided to enlist was Sam and Tucker. 

Maddie had believed level-headed Jazz would guide her brother, although she’d hoped he’d find his own footing. She hadn’t imagined neither one of them would think to call in their own parents for backup. She wasn’t sure who had arrived first, Sam and Tucker or Phantom, because for all she and Jack knew, Phantom had followed them to Norrisville. It wasn’t a variable she had considered; she’d thought Phantom believed Amity Park too precious to leave unprotected, too susceptible to attack by his fellow ghosts.

But as he was here, she was not surprised to see him in action. She would not be surprised to see him working openly with the Ninja; even if Norrisville’s infamous ghost was as wary of intruders as Phantom, Phantom’s reputation no doubt preceded him. His twisted version of good will could be accepted when the need was pressing. It was wise to choose the lesser of the two evils and to handle the lesser problem in due course. That was why she and Jack had retreated at the school.

Maddie glanced at her daughter, who had been quiet since her announcement that she’d changed her mind and they’d best go straight to McFist Industries. She knew Jazz was keeping something from her. Both Jazz and Danny had been keeping more and more secrets of late, but that was not uncommon with teenagers and Maddie suspected Jazz knew Danny’s but didn’t deem it troubling enough to tell them on his behalf—something which was equal parts frustration and relief, since Maddie was at least confident Jazz’s tongue would not be stilled if it were terribly important.

Jazz and Danny still had their squabbles, but they had grown closer now than they had ever been as children. They were growing up. But they were growing into themselves, and perhaps pushing them to be Fentons as well as to follow their dreams had resulted in them being pushed too hard.

“I’m sorry about this, sweetie.”

Jazz didn’t need to ask what she was talking about; Maddie’s ever-astute daughter knew precisely what she was referring to. “You couldn’t have known what this would turn into, Mom,” she replied quietly, “and you didn’t even know for sure that Danny and I would take the bait. It’s not your fault.”

It was; Maddie knew that. She and Jack had exposed their kids, practically presented this situation to them on a silver platter. The initial read of Norrisville had shown three ghosts—which meant two, given that the Fenton Finder persisted in counting Danny. If Phantom had followed them from Amity Park instead of coming later, he could account for one, but she couldn’t be certain of that. The Ninja, however, was no doubt one of the ghosts they had found at the very beginning. If the second ghost had not been Phantom, then it had been one the Ninja had been fending off.

But this….

None of the accounts they’d found from Norrisville had hinted that the disease was so virulent. At the most, a roomful of children who had been exposed to the ghost virus—if it was patterned after a virus—at the same time would display symptoms, undergo the transformations they had seen. But they had encountered far more than that at the school, and she’d never anticipated that the children’s humanity would make them somewhat resilient to their weapons.

Ghosts weren’t exactly known for their ability to adapt, but Maddie supposed it was less a mimicry of adaptation and more a fluke mutation that granted their resilience, born from some unique combination of human and ghost.

The children of Norrisville High had been infected, and if the ghostly bug was a stubborn one, well, Maddie was stubborn, too. She would see them returned to their normal state. 

But she was not going to risk her own children to do it. 

“Have you told Danny and his friends to fall back?” Maddie asked. She knew Jazz had been texting someone on her phone while she wove through the streets and glanced anxiously up at the churning sky. She’d seen that particular green-grey colour once before, shortly before a tornado had formed, and she didn’t like the implications of seeing it again now. _What if this is more than just an ecto-disease?_

“You know this isn’t the first time we’ve done this, Mom.” 

Maddie knew that was true, knew it was more true than she’d first suspected. “And Phantom?” she prompted. She wasn’t foolish enough to think that her children weren’t allying themselves with the ghost. She hated that Phantom had managed to hoodwink her own children along with all the others in Amity Park—she couldn’t suppress the fear that Phantom might pull a stunt worthy of the Pied Piper one of these days—but she hoped, if she acknowledged that connection, she might get the truth instead of another deflection.

She didn’t.

“What about him? I haven’t seen him since you did, fighting off the monsters at the school.” 

Monsters. Not _ghosts_ , not _kids_ , but _monsters_. Jazz had already picked up the lingo, already made the decision not to split hairs about what to call the infected. “Are you working with him?” Maddie asked evenly, only allowing the briefest flick of her eyes towards Jazz.

“We’re all trying to stop the monsters, if that’s what you mean.”

It wasn’t what she meant, which Jazz knew quite well, but Maddie could read enough into what she didn’t say to know the truth of the matter. “Please tell your brother to meet us at McFist Industries. I want you both where I can keep an eye on you.”

Jazz said nothing, but neither did she make any move to comply, and they drove the rest of the way in silence. As Maddie eased the Spectre Speeder into a spot on the opposite end of the lot from the Ghost Assault Vehicle—she didn’t want to risk leaving their best means of transportation in the same place—Jazz asked, “This was a test, wasn’t it?”

Maddie cringed at the accusation clear in Jazz’s tone but knew she deserved it. They hadn’t vetted the situation properly, hadn’t gathered enough information before choosing this town, this ghost problem, as a way of seeing if their kids were ready. Even if neither of them ever embraced ghost hunting, the Fenton name was well-known, and having skills to exceed others’ expectations was essential in case they were ever targeted. Jazz was not going to argue that logic, Maddie knew, for all that she could no doubt find a dozen fallacies within it. 

“You know we had our reasons,” Maddie said quietly. She did not want to argue with Jazz, not right now. They argued enough as it was, and Maddie knew she lacked the moral high ground.

“I do know. That’s not my point.” Jazz unbuckled her seatbelt but otherwise didn’t move. “Mom. You and Dad thought we were ready for this, right?”

“Honey, we never anticipated—”

“I know. You couldn’t have. And for that reason you should have, right, because we should never underestimate ghosts?” Jazz turned to look at her then. “Don’t blame yourself, Mom. We _are_ ready for this. This….” She struggled with her words for a moment. “This isn’t like the last time. This isn’t what we think it is. I’m better off back here with you. I know that. But Danny’s not. He’s better in the field than you think.”

“Jazz, I am not about to leave him out there alone.” Frankly, Maddie was surprised Jazz was even implying the mere suggestion of it. Danny’s complaints about his overprotective big sister were not unwarranted. “Either call him back or tell me where he is so I can fight with him.”

“Danny’s _not_ alone.”

“Jasmine.” Maddie couldn’t believe she needed to convince Jazz, of all people, the importance of getting Danny back where they could watch over him. “I expect Sam and Tucker back here as well, and even if you trust Phantom, you know very well that I do not.”

Maddie’s sharp tone didn’t faze Jazz. “They aren’t the only ones fighting.”

“Jasmine, if you even suggest this Norrisville Ninja—”

“Just give us a chance.” Jazz held out her hand. “Let me have your Fenton Phone.”

“Jasmine!” Maddie had known long before Jazz and Danny had become teenagers that she would be blatantly ignored, but she hadn’t expected it in a situation where she clearly knew better and had their best interests at heart. “The situation has changed. It’s dangerous out there, and I am not going to allow you _or_ your brother and his friends to put yourselves in harm’s way.” Not while she and Jack, who had more knowledge and experience, could take their place.

“You haven’t let us try, Mom.”

“You were hurt, Jazz. If Jack and I had been keeping a closer eye on the situation, you wouldn’t have been.”

“But I was willing to take that risk. You can’t coddle us forever, Mom. Danny and I aren’t just children anymore. We’re growing up. That was the point of your little test, wasn’t it? To make sure we could handle ourselves? Then let us _try_.”

“You have to crawl before you can walk, sweetie, let alone run.” Maddie admired Jazz’s dedication—it shouldn’t be a surprise; she got it from both sides—but this was ridiculous. “Why did you really change your mind about the hospital?”

“Because I trust your judgement and mine, and I trust Tucker’s assessment of the situation. Because I was only really pushing for it before to try to get you to draw back from the fight.” Jazz must have known Maddie suspected as much or she wouldn’t have admitted it. “Because Phantom can fight better when you aren’t shooting at him, and because….” Jazz swallowed. “Because you’re safer here, too, Mom.”

“And Danny isn’t?” Jazz couldn’t argue with that one. She’d be condemning herself if she tried. 

“We’re safer if he’s not,” was all Jazz said, and she got out of the Spectre Speeder before Maddie had a chance to question her further.


	24. Chapter 24

Sam had known trying to make a break for it at the airport wouldn’t have gotten her anywhere, so she’d decided to wait and bide her time. A limousine had been there to pick them up, despite their early arrival, and she’d used the drive to get ready. A quick trip to the washroom with her travel bag meant she had some decent clothes on underneath this dress, which she planned to ditch the moment running was required. She had the lipstick weapon concealed in her pocket, next to her cell phone, and had just tucked Fenton Phones into her ears.

It was pure luck on her part that the others were using them right now.

Admittedly, she didn’t understand much of the conversation. She didn’t even recognize everyone who was talking—it was more than just her friends—but she listened because the more she heard now, the less they’d need to fill her in on later.

They were fighting someone called the Sorcerer, who had made his way downtown. Tucker was running surveillance at the moment, as far as Sam could tell. This Sorcerer had the power to transform people into monsters. She’d think it was a ghost thing, except that Danny wasn’t in the middle of the fight and they weren’t calling it a ghost thing. Instead, Danny had let this other kid—Randy—take the lead while he went to investigate something else. Some kind of freaky light, as far as Sam could tell. She just hoped this Randy was as good as he seemed to think he was. Sam heard nothing from Jazz but caught a comment from another boy, Howard, that he was sending every kid they destanked (whatever that meant) to McFist Industries. To the ‘safe zone’. 

Since Sam had heard nothing that even resembled any of this from her parents or their robot chauffeur, she was willing to bet they were still in the dark about all of this.

Sam shuffled out of the limo and followed her parents up the steps of the mansion where the family—the McFists—stood waiting for them and suffered through the introductions. She’d been hoping there would be something around—bike, skateboard, scooter, she wasn’t going to be picky—that she could steal so she had a faster form of transportation than her own two legs. There would be enough running by the time she joined the fight; she didn’t need to exhaust herself getting there or she’d be less than useless.

The others didn’t need liability right now.

When Sam stepped across the threshold, she told herself it was because she needed something to get her closer to the others. At this point, she’d take the car keys. She might be too young to have a license, but she was willing to bet she was a better driver than Jack Fenton. 

The McFist boy, who struck her as less intelligent than Dash, fell in step beside her after a not-so-subtle nudge on his mother’s part. “So.” He glanced at her. “You like minibikes?”

 _Perfect_.

“Love ‘em.” Sam’s smile was genuine, if not meant for Bash. “You have one I can see?”

Bash’s grin was wide. “Yeah! Out back. Hey, Mom, we’re going out back!” Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed her arm and Sam allowed herself to be dragged off while the boy began prattling on about the virtues of minibikes.

Sam was just focusing on the fact that it was transportation. Even better, motorized transportation, which meant it was going to be faster than any power she could generate herself. She shucked off her dress while Bash wasn’t paying attention and enjoyed the flexibility of her usual choice of clothes. She wasn’t in combat boots, unfortunately—her mother could only pretend to ignore so much—but despite her fancier footwear, she could run, and that’s what mattered.

“And it goes up to— Whoa.” Bash broke off as he looked from his precious minibike to her. “Man, you sure you aren’t Fowler’s long lost sister or something?”

“Definitely.” Sam had no idea who Fowler was and wasn’t interested enough to ask. “Deli toothpick cellophane twirling heiress here, and very happily an only child.” She moved to stand next to him on the grass and pretended to admire the polish on the bike. “Can I try it out?”

“I got this for Bash’s Big Day,” Bash said, clearly reluctant. “The Ninja fixed it up for me. I don’t want anyone else to touch it.”

 _What Ninja?_ “I’m not going to break it,” Sam assured him. “C’mon, just one ride. To please our parents by showing how great we’re getting along?”

It was a plea only kids in her own situation understood, and it seemed to get through to Bash. “You can ride behind me,” he decided as he began pushing the minibike around to the front. “I’ve got an extra helmet.”

Sam wasn’t going to argue if it was going to get her out of here. “Great.” Bash found the helmets and when she was settled behind him, Sam said, “I hear your dad’s headquarters are shaped like a giant pyramid.”

“Stepdad,” Bash corrected. “And, yeah, it is. It’s cool. Wanna see it?”

“Yeah.” The others might not know she was coming, but she doubted they’d turn down the extra help. “But don’t take the shortest way to get there.” That way, the chances of cutting through downtown were bound to be less. Without knowing exactly what was going on, it was best to go around the worst area.

“Heh.” The approval was evident. He thought she just wanted a longer ride—or perhaps a longer time away from their parents. Either way, he wouldn’t exactly be wrong. “You aren’t half bad for a rich chick.” 

“Say that again and you’ll be flat on the ground in two seconds,” Sam replied, though without the usual venom in her tone. 

“Aw, no girl can take down Bash!”

“I’ll accept that challenge,” Sam said. “We’ll talk once we get back. Unless you’ll let me drive if I beat you?”

Bash snorted. “I’m gonna spare you ‘cause I like you. You got more spunk than most girls.” He revved the minibike. “But you wouldn’t be able to ride if we fought first.”

“Oh, I’d ride fine. You’d be the one finding it too painful to sit.” 

“You just keep tellin’ yourself that,” Bash said, and then he kicked the bike out of neutral and they sped off. 

-|-

The mountain was less a mountain and more a manmade volcano—however they had managed that—and was called Mount Chuck. 

Danny knew he really couldn’t afford to drag his feet, but he had to take a moment to appreciate the name of the place. Mt. Chuck, Norrisville. It was brilliant.

The glow he’d been chasing wasn’t coming from the volcano, thankfully, but neither was it coming from the Museum of Silt. It was hidden in a thicket of evergreens some distance from the base of the mountain, deeper into the state park than the museum was. Danny adjusted his flight to angle downwards, and his ghost sense went off.

Maybe Norrisville really _was_ haunted?

“Found one, you guys,” Danny said into the Fenton Phone, “but I’ve got company, so I’ll be going quiet for a while.” He eased himself to the forest floor, looking for some sign of the ghost—ghosts?—that had set off his ghost sense. He wasn’t in a clearing—the trees were growing fairly thick in this place—but a bright green orb cast a shimmering light across the trees that was reminiscent of the shifting ectoplasm in the Ghost Zone.

The orb itself was suspiciously out in the open, lying on a bed of old pine needles. 

“Um…hello?” He hadn’t been invisible, so he wasn’t exactly drawing attention to himself by saying something. It—they—already knew he was there. Danny glanced around. “Anyone here?”

Danny only saw a flicker of motion from the corner of his eye, but the shadow nearest to him seemed to bend and the next moment he was held down by Spectra. “So,” she drawled as he struggled in her grip, “has the little freak abandoned his friends because he cannot help them?”

“Let go,” Danny mumbled, already feeling the draining effect of Spectra’s feeding. He screwed up his eyes in concentration and turned intangible, sinking into the ground. Rather than following him, she let him go, and he surfaced a good three feet away from her. This vantage point also let him see a bright green squirrel that was Bertrand who had been perched on a branch behind him.

The squirrel morphed and became Bertrand’s shapeless, amoeba-like form. “You cannot fight us by yourself and expect to win, halfa.”

So far that had held true—at least if it was two on one—but in retrospect, if he carried Fenton Plugs with him so he couldn’t hear the poison of Spectra’s words, fighting them would be a lot easier. Now wasn’t the time to dispute that point, though. “I didn’t come to fight you guys,” Danny answered honestly. “I came for that thing.” He pointed to the orb. Telling them what he was after probably wouldn’t make things any easier, but he was willing to give it a shot.

“And what makes you think you can have it?” Bertrand asked. He hadn’t moved from the tree; it gave him a different vantage point than Spectra, Danny knew, and a potential advantage if he tried to make a move.

“Because it’ll be worse off for you guys if I don’t have it?”

Spectra laughed. “Do you really think we are so easy to fool? You’re a silly little boy who is in over his head, playing at bigger things. You know nothing of what that is. To you, it is no more than a trinket.”

Danny shifted uneasily. “Okay, look, I’ll admit I don’t know exactly what it does, but I know it’s the Sorcerer’s. You guys can’t really be friends with him, right? You wouldn’t have run if you were.”

“We struck a bargain,” Spectra said simply, “and saw no reason to hang around once it was completed. It’s not running away; it’s moving on.”

“What the heck could you guys promise each other to make a deal?” Danny asked before he thought about it. 

Spectra flicked her fingers dismissively. “He promised not to interfere with my work, and I promised to work quickly and efficiently.”

Danny frowned, not buying that. “What about Randy?”

“What about him?”

“You made him think I was the bad guy!”

“I did no such thing. You did that yourself, you foolish boy. I didn’t need to waste my time.”

“Okay, fine.” He didn’t have time to argue about that when it didn’t really matter. “But because of what you guys pulled, the Sorcerer’s out of his prison. You know he’s going to try to destroy the world, right? Or at least conquer it?”

“That’s not our concern,” Bertrand pointed out.

“What, you think he’s just going to let you guys swoop in and do whatever you want whenever you want to whomever you want? Even _I_ know that’s not going to happen.”

“There will always be enough misery in the world to sustain us.”

“Yeah? And how would you like it if the Ghost Zone is ruled by someone like Desiree?”

Bertrand snorted. “The wishing ghost doesn’t have the power to pull a move like that.”

“Nor the wits,” Spectra added dryly.

“The Ghost Zone and the Real World are mirrored, remember? What happens here is gonna happen in the Ghost Zone, one way or another. You guys could end up with another Pariah Dark on your hands if the Sorcerer gets his way.” Danny had no idea if that was really true, but it was the best argument he could think of. 

Spectra smirked. “Doubtful,” was all she said, and Danny was left wondering if he somehow had it wrong.

But he couldn’t, could he? Skulker must believe their dimensions were linked, too, or he wouldn’t have agreed to help Danny the time the Guys in White had tried to launch a missile into the Ghost Zone. The ghosts only ever seemed to help him to save their own skin, and most of them favoured good-natured (or not-so-good-natured) fighting and rivalry when it wasn’t the Christmas Truce. 

“Do you know about the Land of Shadows?” The words were out of Danny’s mouth before he fully realized he was saying them aloud.

“I know far more than you. I’m no fool.”

Bertrand drifted down from his branch. The tension hadn’t dropped, exactly, but the threat of attack was no longer there. “Where’d you hear about that place, halfa?”

“From the Ninja. Seems like the Sorcerer’s got a friend trapped there. She escaped once, if I understand it correctly, but she’s been sealed back up and no one knows for how long.” Spectra and Bertrand exchanged glances, so Danny asked, “So it’s not just the Ghost Zone?”

Bertrand frowned at him. “How much of the Ghost Zone have you actually seen?”

Danny shrugged. “I dunno. It’s hard to tell with things moving, but I’ve been out to the Far Frozen. I’ve gone to Dora and Aragon’s. Clockwork’s tower. Which direction?”

“The direction doesn’t matter. If you go deep enough, you’ll get there.”

Danny raised an eyebrow at Spectra’s words. “Are you from there or something?”

Bertrand snorted. “If you’d run into something from there, kid, even you’d know.”

“It’s a niche world, a sub dimension, if you will,” Spectra explained. She still sounded irritated with him, but if she was willing to share her knowledge, Danny wasn’t going to complain. “It doesn’t stay in the same place.”

“Nothing does,” Danny pointed out, “but most places stay relative to other places.” It had taken him a while to figure that out, but it had become a lot easier since he’d begun thinking of it like objects in the solar system—minus the set direction of movement because there was no actual orbit it followed.

“The Land of Shadows stays in the shadows,” Spectra said. “It’s not predictable.”

“There aren’t really shadows in the Ghost Zone,” Danny said. Sure, they could be created—if the ghost in control of the lair wanted them to be—but it definitely wasn’t a given.

Spectra hissed in annoyance. “Did you want to hear the truth of this or not? Because I will happily throw you there, Phantom, and never have to deal with you again. I’d gladly sacrifice a feast knowing I’d condemned you to torment there.”

Danny retreated a few inches. “Sorry. Just….” He gestured at the orb. “That’s connected to it, isn’t it? The Land of Shadows?” He wasn’t sure how a gateway to the Land of Shadows had been opened by the Ninja—whichever Ninja had done it—but he was willing to bet the Sorcerer had no trouble opening a portal there. And since that orb belonged to the Sorcerer….

“It’s connected to the Ghost Zone primarily,” Bertrand said bluntly, “but we could _make_ it connect to the Land of Shadows.”

Danny blinked, though not in surprise of Bertrand’s threat. “Wait, were you guys trying to use it to open a portal?” In retrospect, that made sense. If they could harness the orb’s power to create their own portals, it would make things a lot easier for them. As far as he knew, neither Spectra nor Bertrand had that ability, and while they might both spend enough time in the Real World to be able to pass as humans, he suspected they went back to the Ghost Zone for ease of travel if nothing else.

Bertrand glanced at Spectra. “Should we just trap him in the Land of Shadows and let him learn about it the hard way?”

“It’s sorely tempting,” Spectra said evenly, and Danny didn’t like the way she was looking at him.

“Okay, look,” he said quickly, “I’ll…. I won’t hunt you down or anything, okay? I’ll let you go off on your own, won’t stick you in a thermos or anything. Not unless you come back to Amity Park or you start causing trouble where I hear about it. Just give me the ball thing. I mean, you’ve gotta know that whatever you’re trying to do with it is going to backfire. The Sorcerer’s bad news.”

Spectra laughed. “I’d rather see you squashed like a bug.” She swooped down to scoop up the orb. “At least trapping you in the Land of Shadows would serve to get you out of my hair.”

Danny held up his hands. “C’mon, you know how bad the Sorcerer is. You don’t want his friend loose in the Ghost Zone because she got out of the Land of Shadows, right? So, just, even if you won’t help me, let me have that orb.”

“You don’t even know its true power.”

“No,” Danny agreed slowly, “but I’d rather have it where I can see it so I know the Sorcerer doesn’t get his hands on it again.”

Spectra heaved a sigh and shifted back to her human guise. Bertrand shot her a look of surprise. “If you wish to bargain, you’ll have to do better than that.”

“Um….” This was not his forte; Danny knew that. He slowly lowered his hands. “If you help me, I’ll, uh….” He had no idea what he could offer her. It’s not like he could promise not to fight her if she came back to Amity Park. Spectra was one of the ghosts who had actively tried to kill someone; promising something that would more or less give her free reign of his hometown and _keeping_ that promise was not something Danny was willing to do. 

“Bertrand, go check up on the situation. See how the halfa’s little friends are getting along.”

Bertrand looked suspicious but didn’t question Spectra’s obvious order and shifted into the form of a (small) wasp and flew off.

“Um….” Danny looked at Spectra uncertainly. She had to be planning something, but he wasn’t convinced he’d like it.

“I’ll make you a deal, Phantom,” Spectra said sweetly. “It’ll even be a favourable one for you.”

Okay, he _definitely_ couldn’t trust her. “Okay,” Danny said hesitantly. “I’m listening.” He bit his lip. “But, uh, I can’t promise not to fight you in the future or anything.”

Spectra scoffed. “Don’t take me for a fool. All I want is for you to give me one of your parents’ weapons.”

Danny blinked. “What? Really? Why?”

Spectra rolled her eyes. “I want the Fenton Xtractor.”

Danny just stared at her.

“I would just take it,” Spectra added, “but your parents have taken to keeping most of their developed weapons in that dratted Fenton Weapons Vault of theirs.” She said the full name with a sneer. 

Danny did a mental calculation. The Vault was phase proof and genetically locked—though Tucker had fiddled with it so it recognized him and Sam, too—which meant he was really the only ghost who could get in there easily. Technus probably could, too, if he tried, though his parents were aware of the technology ghost and had done their best to circumvent his interference. But there was still one thing Danny didn’t get. “Why?”

“Why else? I need to _extract_ something.”

Danny scrunched up his face. “But that’s just for ghosts.”

“Do you never even look at the modifications your parents make on their weapons?” Spectra looked incredulous. “I can’t believe they haven’t captured you yet.”

“Oh, come on!”

“After the first time we ran into them, I sent Bertrand to look up the blueprints of every weapon they made.” 

Right; the filing cabinet they kept those in _wasn’t_ ghost-proof. Danny made a mental note to mention something to his parents when they got back. “Okay, but…. Why won’t you just tell me why you want it? I’m not gonna agree unless I know.”

“Then you’ll never get what you want.” Spectra’s grip tightened on the orb, and Danny had horrible visions of it exploding.

“Okay! Okay, I promise I’ll give it to you. Mom and Dad have one here. I can pretend McFist lost it or something.” Danny really hoped he wasn’t going to regret this, but what was the worst thing Spectra could do with the Xtractor? Capture a ghost? That wasn’t exactly her style.

Spectra smiled. Danny half expected her to throw the orb and tell him to fetch it if he wanted it, but she merely held it out. He snatched it from her grip, not wanting to give her any opportunity to change her mind and smash the thing to smithereens. 

Spectra didn’t move, and Danny hesitated. “Um…. Are you going to help us fight the Sorcerer?”

“And why would I do something like that?” Danny grimaced at Spectra’s response; he should’ve known better than to even ask. “But I will give you a piece of advice: every good hunter knows their prey.”

“Huh?”

Spectra looked down at him over the rims of her glasses. “Do your homework,” she said bluntly. “Leave the Xtractor in my office at the school. If you happen to destroy that, leave it here by the end of the day.”

Danny frowned. “What if we haven’t dealt with the Sorcerer by the end of the day?”

Spectra snorted. “If you haven’t, then that’s hardly the question you want to be asking.”

“Right.” Danny used his free hand to rub the back of his neck. “Uh…any advice regarding this?” He held up the power ball.

Spectra smirked. “Don’t give it back to its owner.” She dropped her human guise and melted into the shadows, and Danny was left alone with the orb.

Spectra had been helpful. Her advice might not have been really helpful, but he’d gotten what he’d come for without a fight. All he’d had to do was bargain away one of his parents’ weapons—and it wasn’t like the Fenton Xtractor was terribly different from the Fenton Weasel. The Weasel wasn’t strictly used for removal of ghosts from whatever they were possessing like the Xtractor, but there was the Ghost Catcher for that, and—

“Oh, man, I wonder if that would work?” His parents had more than one weapon which would force the separation of ghost and human. Or object, as the case may be, but human in this case. Maybe there was something that would work with the Sorcerer’s magic.

Then again, maybe not, considering it wasn’t exactly ghostly magic. But it was definitely worth a try. “Got the power ball,” Danny reported. “Tuck, you’re closest to Jazz. Get her to meet you with the Fenton Xtractor. We’re gonna need it anyway, but I want to try something first.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Randy said, _“You don’t wanna go near the Sorcerer with any of his power balls. Maybe you should just destroy the thing and then destroy the others. Maybe if we destroy them all he’ll have less power.”_

Danny frowned. “Doesn’t sound like a good idea from what I hear,” he answered. “I know where you’re coming from, but I kinda have the feeling destroying these things will open portals to the Ghost Zone, maybe even to the Land of Shadows, and we don’t want to deal with that right now.” Okay, so he didn’t know that for sure, but he definitely didn’t want to risk it. “I’ll just, uh, maybe stick this one in the silt museum? That’ll hide its glow, and it won’t take much of anything out if it does explode that way.” Danny couldn’t think that a destroyed Museum of Silt would be a terrible loss. 

_“So long as you just hide them all and well enough that they aren’t gonna move of their own accord. Keep ‘em separate, too. Maybe just bury them deeper when you do find them or something.”_

“Will do. But I need to get the Xtractor. Tucker? You still in the best position to get that?”

Nothing. 

“Tucker?” Danny couldn’t hide the anxiety in his voice. If Tucker had gotten hurt on his watch….

 _“Maybe he just can’t talk now, because he’s too close to the Sorcerer or something,”_ Randy offered.

_“Or maybe he got stanked. I’ll check on him and let you guys know if I see him or a monster running around that I don’t recognize.”_

_“You hang back to deal with stragglers, Howard, and then circle wide to meet up with Jazz at McFist Industries. I’ll see what’s up with Tucker.”_ There was a pause, followed by a very unconvincing, _“It’s probably nothing.”_

It wasn’t going to be nothing. Danny knew that. But he also knew that if the Sorcerer _had_ gotten to Tucker, it would take a lot longer for him to figure that out than it would take Randy or Howard. He knew he couldn’t go straight to McFist Industries, either—he’d seen the distinct green shimmer that was the Portable Fenton Ghost Shield surrounding it earlier—so he would be most useful fetching the rest of these power balls.

But this was Tucker.

They’d been best friends since forever.

“I’ll just do a sweep through the downtown core on my way to the lake,” Danny said—to himself, since he’d muted his microphone. “Tuck probably just lost his Fenton Phone like Jazz did and doesn’t know we’re panicking over nothing.” But his words were empty, and Danny flew faster than usual to hide the orb and head back into Norrisville. He needed to check up on his friend.

 _Has the little freak abandoned his friends because he cannot help them?_ Spectra’s taunt echoed in Danny’s mind. He tried to push the thought away, but it kept coming back to haunt him. He couldn’t quiet his fear that it might be the truth.


	25. Chapter 25

Things didn’t look too hot downtown. The Sorcerer had taken up residence on top of some of the office buildings, and his stank was brewing up a wicked storm. Randy was three blocks away, and the wind _still_ nearly tore him from the rooftop he clung to. The clouds that churned in the sky were a sickly grey-green colour, but the lightning that flashed and the thunder that rolled overhead meant they definitely weren’t just for show. 

If Randy couldn’t get the Sorcerer back into the pit, this was the beginning of the end. 

Man, he did _not_ want to be the Ninja who wonked things up that badly. Again.

Of course, his idea that Danny could just push out the Sorcerer’s stank by possessing the stanked kids had gone nowhere. Howard was making slow progress when it came to destanking kids by boosting their confidence and renewing their will to fight, but Randy was pretty sure that only really worked with the kids Spectra had seen. That’s what she’d taken from them in the first place, after all, and the Sorcerer had preyed upon the hole that had left in them. 

Plenty of people were cowering in buildings now, waiting for the Ninja to save them before they resumed their daily business; they didn’t understand that this was the honkin’ _Sorcerer_ , and if anyone clued into the fact that he was distinctly different from the usual enemies the Ninja fought, they didn’t know what that meant. There had been plenty more people on the streets, though, walking or driving or biking or doing _something_ where the Sorcerer had gotten to them. 

Those were people the Sorcerer had managed to stank by preying upon little more than their terror, the chaos he generated. If they were anything like the battle rats Randy had fought before, he could deal with some of them just by beating them. One good hit could destank them, even. At least, that’s how it had been last time.

Randy just wasn’t sure how much _last time_ was going to hold true for _this time_. 

The wind died just long enough for Randy’s scarf to wrap around the fire escape of the next building, but it picked up with a vengeance when he leapt. He swung wide, wildly out of control, and at some point in his flailing lost his grip and hung by his neck alone. Randy had horrible visions of his scarf strangling him to death but in the next moment, the gust of wind blew itself out and Randy slammed into the side of the building. His scarf unfurled itself and he slid none-too-gracefully to the ground in a daze.

“Ninja?”

Randy forced himself to his feet and looked around for the source of the voice. He recognized it; it was one of his schoolmates, though at the moment his brain couldn’t supply him with a name or a face. At any rate, it was someone who wasn’t stanked, so either someone who hadn’t gotten stanked in the first place or who had been destanked by Howard earlier. 

“Over here.” 

Randy’s eyes finally fell on Pradeep, who was crouched in the shadows behind a dumpster. Randy joined him. “You need to get to McFist Industries,” Randy croaked. He wasn’t sure it would help—it could very well backfire on him, if the Sorcerer attacked the building once everyone was in it and they were sitting ducks—but Pradeep wasn’t any safer out here. If Danny wasn’t way off base with the idea that they might be able to get rid of the Sorcerer’s stank the same way the Fentons got rid of ghosts, then Pradeep was definitely better off with them.

The French horn player didn’t look too great, though. Cowering aside, he’d lost his hat at some point between the school and here, and the rest of his band uniform had definitely seen better days. It was torn in a few places, his sash was ripped clean off, some of the buttons were missing, and those stains weren’t just from sitting in the marching band section at games.

Pradeep nodded absently, as if he weren’t really paying attention to what Randy was saying. His eyes had turned from Randy to the point where the Sorcerer stood up on the skyline. They couldn’t see him now, not from this vantage point, but there was no mistaking that that was where the Sorcerer was. The eye of the storm swirled above him.

“Who is he, Ninja?” Pradeep asked, still not looking at Randy. His voice sounded hollow, broken, a pale mockery of what it should be. 

Randy slid from his crouch to sit cross-legged on the cold cement. “He’s the Sorcerer. He’s bad news, but you don’t need to worry. I’ve got this covered.” Randy swallowed, remembering the Nomicon’s words. “I’ve got a bit of help so things don’t go south.”

“More people are turning into monsters than usual.”

Randy wondered if Pradeep or anyone else realized now that people became monsters because of the Sorcerer. “Then I’ll make sure more people than usual get turned back,” Randy said firmly. He couldn’t let anyone doubt him, couldn’t give the Sorcerer any more hold over people. “You let me worry about the Sorcerer. You worry about getting to McFist Industries, okay?”

Pradeep turned to look at him then, and the uncertainty was clear in his eyes.

Randy swallowed, feeling his responsibility as the Ninja—and for this very situation—settle on his shoulders more heavily than before. “Your name’s Pradeep, right?” Randy didn’t wait for confirmation. “Do you think you can do something for me, Pradeep? As a favour for the Ninja?” At Pradeep’s nod, Randy continued, “At McFist Industries, there’s this girl, Jazz Fenton. Tall, long red hair, doesn’t go to school with you. She’s helping set up the safe house, so she might look busy, but she’s one of the people that’s helping me right now, just like you will be. Tell her….” Randy hesitated. He still wasn’t sure what had happened with Tucker, and telling her about that wouldn’t make things any better. He couldn’t get her opinion on the Nomicon’s advice, either, but he could give her a clue she might not have to figuring out what they needed to focus on to stay safe. “Just tell her I said _willpower_.”

“What?”

“She might already know—” Randy wasn’t sure how much Tucker had told her “—but if she doesn’t, then she’ll figure it out.”

Pradeep didn’t hide his confusion, but Randy was almost grateful for it. It seemed to snap the boy out of his stupor. “Willpower?” he repeated. “Why _willpower_?”

Randy grinned, even though Pradeep wouldn’t be able to see it beneath the mask. “Ask her and see if she can tell you.” He got to his feet, pulling out a smoke bomb as he did so. Pradeep had already seen one ungraceful entrance; he could at least make a better exit. “Smoke bomb!”

Randy was out of the alley long before the smoke had cleared. He stayed on the ground for now, not wanting to risk the Sorcerer seeing him moving between the rooftops when he was this close (or wanting to risk being strangled by his scarf again). When he came across the first monster who wasn’t a school kid, he hit it hard. He couldn’t knock the stank out of the person, though. The stank had a tighter hold on this guy—and presumably all the others—than it had upon the Sorcerer’s battle rats back in 1213. 

Mostly likely, the terror they’d felt when they’d seen the Sorcerer, the chaos that was spreading throughout the town.

He should’ve known it wasn’t going to be this easy.

On the upside, he saw no sign of Tucker. He might not recognize all the people within the monsters, but Randy had spent enough time with Tucker that he was confident he’d be able to identify the guy’s stanked self, and there was no monster that even came close to what Randy expected to see. 

On the downside, he still had no idea where Tucker was, and the guy still wasn’t answering his Fenton Phone.

“The Sorcerer definitely hasn’t gotten Tucker,” Randy reported once he was confident of that fact. He’d managed to destank a few more kids—Mick and some of the people in Morgan’s dance troupe whose names he couldn’t remember—and send them to McFist Industries, but there were still too many more to go. “We need to move though, guys. Even if no one’s found the Tengu Stone—”

 _“You are_ not _letting a bird demon fly up my butt again, Cunningham.”_

“Even if no one’s found the Tengu Stone,” Randy repeated fiercely, “I can’t just keep focusing on everyone who’s stanked and ignoring the Sorcerer. Putting off this fight is just going to make things worse. Tucker will turn up, Danny. Just grab the rest of the Sorcerer’s power balls and stash them where he can’t get them or see them and back me up when you get here, ‘cause I can’t wait much longer.”

There was a very long pause, and Randy wasn’t sure Danny would answer. Finally, _“The only one left is yours. I’ll hide it in your basement and meet up with you. What plan are we on?”_

“The one where we make it up as we go.” 

_“So, no element of surprise by working together?”_

“Nothing that involves you fighting with my body,” Randy said. “Anything else is fair game. There’s gotta be something else to try before we hit _that_ point.” He thought for a moment. “Hey, maybe you could just overshadow the Sorcerer.”

 _“Overshadowing is a battle of wills,”_ came Danny’s blunt reply, _“and I’m not sure I’d win that one.”_

Randy winced, knowing what Danny didn’t say: that he wasn’t so sure he’d come out of it unaffected like he had when he’d tried overshadowing Heidi. He supposed that solution _was_ entirely too easy to work. “You think Jazz will know what you’re thinking when it comes to the extractor thing?”

_“Yeah. But I’ll need it even if it doesn’t work.”_

“Gotcha. Howard? You and Jazz can try it out and get the thing away from Danny’s parents before they realize you’ve got it. I’m gonna….” Randy swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “I’m gonna go fight the Sorcerer.”

-|-

Bash had graciously offered to ‘take her to see the Ninja’ when he realized there were plenty of monsters downtown, but Sam had declined. She’d said it looked like the Ninja was busy enough that they could see the factory first and then cheer him on after, which was the only reason she’d gotten Bash to avoid the city centre. Bash didn’t seem to know enough not to get in the middle of things, and the last thing Sam needed was for either of them to be targeted. It sounded like Tucker had already gone MIA, and that worried her.

It worried her even more because she didn’t know enough to even guess what might have happened.

“Whoa, what’s with the shiny green thing?” 

Considering Bash had slowed to a crawl, it was easy for Sam to hear him over the rumble of the minibike. “Fenton Ghost Shield,” she answered. “Keep going; it only keeps out ghosts, so you’ll have no trouble getting through.”

“Huh. How’d you know that?”

“Not the first one I’ve seen, definitely not going to be the last.” 

Bash didn’t so much park the minibike once they got closer as run over a small sapling and nearly sideswipe one of the pyramid’s slanting walls, but Sam was too used to driving with Danny’s dad for that to faze her. She hopped off and hung her helmet on the handlebars. “Looks like all the action is over there,” she said, pointing to an open bay farther down the side of the building.

Bash watched dumbly as a few school-age kids darted for the entrance, running across the open space as if their lives depended on it. “That’s not the main entrance,” he said.

Sam shrugged. “I’m going to check it out.” She didn’t care if he followed her, so she just took off. 

She stopped just over the threshold of the loading dock. Inside the large storage room was organized chaos, and it was a kind she’d seen before, back in Amity Park. Jack and Maddie were flitting between the makeshift stations, and they’d recruited kids and adults alike to be in charge of each one. Someone had shoved a tray full of cookies into Jazz’s arms at one point, but she was talking to a kid in what looked like a tattered band uniform, so most of her fare was disappearing when kids nipped up to swipe one or two or five treats while she stood there. 

“Man, this don’t look like no place where things are kept that I’ve ever seen,” Bash said behind her. “This looks more like one of them busy places with all the people.”

Sam spared a few seconds to work that through her head. “A mall?” It didn’t really matter to her. “Anyway, I need to talk to Jazz. That girl,” she added, pointing. “You just see if there’s anyone you know to talk to.”

Bash blinked. “Like the homework guy? Why would I talk to the homework guy when I don’t have no homework to give him?”

Sam shrugged. “Maybe to find out what’s going on?”

“Oh. Yeah. That’s a good idea. I’m gonna do that.”

 _Good_. Sam weaved her way through the crowd and came up next to Jazz. “Hey,” she said.

Jazz stared at her. “ _Sam_? What are you doing here?”

“I’m running away from my parents. What else?”

Jazz raised her eyebrows.

“It’s a dinner party. Why would I sit through that when all the action seems to be down here?”

“A dinner—?” Jazz broke off, her eyes widening. “With the McFists?”

“Who else?” Sam took off one of her Fenton Phones and handed it to Jazz. “Here, you might as well get back in the loop. From what I gather, this Howard kid is coming to meet you to get the Fenton Xtractor. The other boy, I forget his name, is going to attack the Sorcerer—” from what she’d seen outside, there was no doubt who that was “—and Danny’s going to back him up once he hides these power ball things. Tucker’s gone offline.”

“I haven’t heard from him, either, but maybe he just lost his Fenton Phone?" Jazz asked, slipping Sam’s onto her left ear. “He was texting me earlier; said he gave up his phone, but he should still have his PDA and everything else he carries.”

“Maybe. They’re not sure; they can’t find him. What’s going on? Why isn’t Danny taking the lead on this?”

“Because the Sorcerer isn’t a ghost, and his magic packs a better punch than Desiree’s.” Jazz blew out a breath. “Randy’s tangled with him before, though.”

“He’s this Ninja?”

“Don’t say that too loudly. We’re in his enemy’s lair.” Jazz pulled a face. “Well, McFist’s, if not the Sorcerer’s, but McFist is working for the Sorcerer, so it’s the same difference.” 

“This guy sounds like a cross between Vortex and Desiree.”

“His skills sound like they’re more on par with Pariah Dark.” Jazz glanced at her parents. “You want to know why we were really dragged here, Sam? It wasn’t just this deal with McFist Industries. I’m not sure large scale production of FentonWorks products was the priority for either side when they agreed to this. Mom and Dad wanted to see how well Danny and I would do on our own when confronted with ghosts outside of Amity Park, to make sure we’re prepared for the future when we’re not under their wing. Near as I can guess, they heard stories about the Ninja and figured he was enough of a challenge to keep us on our toes but still something that we could handle.”

“The Fenton name goes far, huh?” Sam couldn’t say she was really surprised. Jack and Maddie might have accepted that neither of their kids wanted to devote their life to hunting ghosts—at least as far as they knew—but they would do everything in their power to be assured that Jazz and Danny were prepared for what they would see as an inevitable ghost attack. 

Jazz nodded absently and moved to set her empty cookie tray on a pile of currently-unused equipment. “This whole thing went downhill faster than any of us were expecting. Needless to say, Norrisville’s problem isn’t the same as Amity Park’s. I’m not sure why Danny thinks the Xtractor will help. Mom and Dad have added more settings to it, so it’ll do more than just suck a ghost out of whomever it’s overshadowing, but at the end of the day, it’s still designed to work on something where ectoplasm is actually involved.”

Sam thought back to the conversations she’d overheard. “So you don’t think it’ll do any good against the Sorcerer? And the, uh, stank stuff?”

“I doubt it. They must have some plan, though. Randy told me _willpower_.”

“They don’t have a plan. And what does willpower have to do with anything?”

“I haven’t figured….” Jazz trailed off. Her eyes went wide, but Sam had hung around Jazz long enough to know that it was with panic and not realization. “Dad! Hey, Dad!” She took off after him, and Sam followed at her heels. “Dad!”

They caught up with Jack just outside. He was armed with an array of ghost hunting equipment that they could see and probably more that they couldn’t. “Jazzerincess, you should be helping your mother,” he said. His eyes fell on Sam, but he didn’t look surprised to see her. Maybe they thought she’d come with Tucker. “You let me handle this, Sam. There’s more than enough work to do in the safe zone.”

“Dad, you can’t go out there.” 

“Your brother and Tucker haven’t come back, Jazzy-pants, and your mother and I aren’t about to leave them out there without someone with more experience to watch their backs.”

“You’re not going to be able to stop him,” Sam murmured as Jack sprinted past the boundaries of the Ghost Shield.

“I know. I’m not even sure I’m in good enough shape to be following him. Sam, I hate to ask this, but—”

“I’m on it. Do you have anything that you know will work against this Sorcerer?” Jazz’s expression answered Sam’s question for her. “Never mind. I’ll call in and let the others know I’m here. Want to find the Xtractor for me? I’ll test it on one of the, uh, monsters.”

“They’re all just people the Sorcerer has transformed,” Jazz warned. 

“So like what Desiree can do to people, minus the ghost part. I get it.”

Jazz bit her lip. “Wait here.” She ran back inside, returning within moments with the Fenton Xtractor. “I’ve got it on the right setting,” she said as she handed it to Sam. She held out a small bag with a couple of Maddie’s Fenton Utility Weapons stuffed in it as well. “And take these in case you need them. Good luck.”

“Thanks, I’ll need it. You’re sure you don’t have any guesses about this willpower thing?”

“Just what it means. Strength of will. The Sorcerer preys on the weak, or at least he did, before he escaped. Now it seems like everyone’s fair game.”

“I’ll be careful, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to take risks.”

“Your judgement I trust,” Jazz said. 

Sam smirked. “Thanks. Keep texting Tucker; you’re the only one of us who can really afford the distraction.”

“I’ve got it covered.”

Sam slung the bag over her shoulder, hoisted the Xtractor, and set off at a jog. “Hey, guys,” she said into her Fenton Phone. “I’ve joined the party and passed my spare Fenton Phone on to Jazz, so she’s back in the loop. I’ve the Fenton Xtractor. Where do you need me?”

After a beat, she heard Danny’s incredulous voice. _“Sam?”_

“No, it’s Paulina.” Sam couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Turns out that dinner party I had to go to was here in Norrisville. I ditched my parents, got a ride to McFist Industries with Bash, and got the bare bones of the situation from the conversations you guys have been having and from Jazz. Your dad’s gone out in the field, Danny. We couldn’t stop him, but I’m following with the Xtractor. Jazz doesn’t think it’s gonna work, by the way.”

_“I’ll swing by and pick you up.”_

“No, don’t. You’ve got more important things to worry about. I can test this thing on my own. You go help that other guy. Randy. See if you guys can stop this Sorcerer before the entire town is destroyed.”

_“Sam—”_

_“Zip it, Fenton. The girl’s right. I’ll find her. There can’t be that many people running_ towards _the Sorcerer.”_ There was pause. _“It’s Howard, by the way.”_

“I look forward to meeting you,” Sam said. “I’ll keep you posted on my location. Look for a black-haired girl hauling around something that looks like a vacuum cleaner.”

_“Will do.”_

Sam turned her mike off and shifted the Fenton Xtractor in her grip so it rested more on her hip. “I really hope this works,” she muttered. Her parents were going to kill her when she finally got back.

But at least Norrisville would still be on the map.

-|-

The fear radiating from below was nearly intoxicating. He had waited _centuries_ to feel this free again. He was taking his time, drawing it out, enjoying himself. He had plenty of time to kill the Ninja once he’d had time to stew. The Sorcerer decided he might even let him leave the pit long enough to see the destruction of his beloved town before he rid himself of the Ninja once and for all.

It turned out that he had not needed his friend the rat for transportation, either. He’d hardly destroyed the school before he’d come across a cowering student whose terror had a familiar taste, and he’d enlisted the boy’s help to get a ride. The boy, of course, could not refuse, and the Sorcerer had him spinning webs to catch more prey. The order kept him tethered nearby, and the horror that permeated the air at the mere sight was more than satisfying. 

The Sorcerer laughed quietly. He still needed to check in on McFist. While the Sorcerer was free, it was in no part due to the fool’s guarantee, and he would make that quite clear if McFist dared to ask for his reward. There was no need to kill him, however. He could yet prove useful. The Sorcerer was well aware that times had changed. While there was a certain flair to storming into a town with a mischief of rats, there were undeniable benefits to being forearmed with knowledge, and McFist could provide that.

Having the Tengu Stone in his possession and having the Ninja out of the way was invaluable. With the Ninja gone and the suddenness of the Sorcerer’s appearance, he hadn’t even needed to utilize the Stone yet. He would be sure to enslave the Ninja’s little friends before he showed the Ninja the destruction he had wrought upon his hometown, though. There was no need to give the Ninja any hope before his death.

“Ninja Air Fist!”

The Sorcerer was thrown from his feet (though not from the rooftop) and the rat leaped away from him. He sent a bit of power its way, transforming it into a proper battle rat. He was not afraid of this Ninja, who could never hope to defeat him while he held the Stone—at least, not on his own—but he was not so arrogant as to underestimate an opponent who had crawled from the pit.

“Ninja,” the Sorcerer drawled as he got to his feet. “You’ve come to join the battle.” He chuckled, and lightning flashed overhead as the power gathered in his hands. “Tell me, how did you escape?”

“Same way you did!” the Ninja shot back. It was nonsensical answer, considering that the Sorcerer very much doubted the Ninja knew how he had escaped, aside from the obvious. The Ninja narrowed his eyes and set his stance in a way the Sorcerer recognized from the fight eight hundred years past. Perhaps little time had passed for this Ninja, since he was the one who had come from the future and had fought with the other ninja, the First Ninja. He did not seem to have learned much more, if anything. “Ninja Air—”

The Sorcerer blasted the Ninja off the roof and then stifled a yawn. Perhaps he had been hasty in the transformation of his rat friend after all.

“Ninja Kick!”

The Sorcerer glanced upwards. The Ninja must have managed to wrap his scarf around something and turn his momentum to his advantage, swinging back up over the roof. The Sorcerer caught the Ninja’s foot. “You’re desperate to fight when you cannot win,” he observed. The fact that he’d made a similar observation some eight hundred years ago was a moot point; this Ninja had had the help of another Ninja then, and now he did not. “I already have the Tengu Stone, Ninja. Would you care for a demonstration of its power?”

The Ninja’s eyes went wide. “You _what_?”

The Sorcerer chuckled and tossed the Ninja away as easily as if he were flicking away a piece of lint. The Ninja flailed and fell. It was a pity. The Sorcerer had been ready for more of a fight, but who was he to complain? He was free. He had the Stone. He was unstoppable. Once he had destroyed the Ninja, he would enslave the citizens of Norrisville—or, perhaps, if the Ninja was being particularly insufferable, the Sorcerer would first enslave him and all his friends before destroying them. That would be satisfying. He had been getting awfully bored.

When he felt a prickle on the back of his neck, the Sorcerer smirked. He had not even needed the warning the rat had given him to know that the Ninja had returned. “You have much to learn, Ninja.”

“Yeah?” It was not the Ninja’s voice. “Well, maybe you do, too.” And before the Sorcerer had a chance to turn around, he was knocked off his feet.


	26. Chapter 26

“It’s not looking good, sir,” Viceroy said. He was in the lab, with one eye on the security cameras in the storage room and the other on the screen featuring a rather harried-looking McFist. McFist’s appearance might be explained as a fault of the video conferencing technology, but Viceroy had built it himself and very much doubted it.

_“Good? How can it look good? Marci would skin me alive if we didn’t have company. Bash and the Manson girl are missing!”_

“They’re here,” Viceroy reported. He might not know what the Manson girl looked like, but he had no doubt that she was exactly who he thought she was. “Bash is, anyway. The Manson girl ran off again after talking to Jazz.” He paused. “Your storage room has been transformed into a crisis aid centre.”

McFist blinked. _“It’s not just a storm, is it?”_

Viceroy knew McFist didn’t want to hear the truth right now, that he wanted to pretend all he had to worry about was the wrath of his wife. Viceroy wished that were the case as well, but he was not one to doubt what the Robo-Apes had seen—especially since he’d managed to restore their memory banks with the picture of the _real_ Ninja and shored up their defences, so to speak. He didn’t worry about a repeat of that in the near future, at least.

Viceroy straightened his glasses. “You don’t need to worry about your guarantee, sir.” McFist frowned but did not look at all fearful. He didn’t fully understand; even if he suspected, he wouldn’t voice _those_ suspicions. Viceroy took a deep breath and elaborated, saying, “The Sorcerer is free.”

_“He’s_ what _? How?”_

“If I were to guess, sir? Chaos.”

McFist swallowed. He knew as well as Viceroy did that the Sorcerer kept trying to break free on his own, that he didn’t wait for the news that they had been successful in destroying the Ninja. _“I’ll tell Marci I’m going to fetch the kids.”_

He didn’t want to come. Viceroy knew McFist well enough to know that. He wanted to run away.

But he still feared Marci as much as he feared the Sorcerer (and perhaps more than, though Viceroy still couldn’t decide if that was foolish or not), and he wouldn’t leave his stepson in danger.

“There’s more you’ll want to know before you walk in,” Viceroy said, holding up a hand to stop McFist as he moved to end the call. “Understandably, the chaos we saw earlier has spread. Jack and Maddie Fenton are well aware of Phantom’s presence and despite failure to control the monsters earlier are still convinced they are dealing with ghosts. Jasmine remains here with her mother, organizing the ever-growing group of refugees, if you will. Jack left to fight and to drag his son and his friend back by the ear, if I’m reading the situation correctly. Both Danny and Tucker, it seems, are still out there—no doubt with your missing Manson girl.”

_“And the Ninja?”_

“Engaged in the fight, as is Phantom. I don’t know the details.” He wasn’t foolish enough to go out there, in plain view of the Sorcerer, and the few Robo-Apes he’d sent out to keep watch were now offline, presumably destroyed. Those data boxes the Fentons had amounted to little when ecto-energy wasn’t involved. That, or he didn’t have some key information that was necessary when it came to interpreting the data from them.

“But, sir,” Viceroy added, “as capable and competent as Jack and Maddie have proven themselves to be, I am gathering more and more evidence that we have been fools to underestimate their children as much as we have.” This was saying something, considering they had already begun looking into them, but beyond the boy’s unexplained appearance when they had first arrived and his presence again at the school, along with a few snatches of conversation that yielded little information, they’d found nothing. Certainly nothing concrete, at least. Not up till now, anyway.

_“What are they up to now?”_ McFist sounded like he didn’t entirely want to know the answer.

“Again, I’m not sure of the details. But they and their friends have made good use of the Fenton communication device, and from the pieces of conversations I have been able to record and overhear, they know more about the Ninja and the Sorcerer than most of the children who grew up in this town. What I’ve heard confirms our suspicions that they are working with the Ninja as they no doubt do with Phantom. I don’t doubt the earlier mishap with the Robo-Apes is the work of the Foley boy.”

McFist grunted. _“To think we ever believed he wanted to work here.”_

“I’m not convinced his eagerness and interest were entirely put on,” Viceroy said slowly. “We could, no doubt, use his brilliance, but I would worry that he would try to undermine us or pass information on to the Ninja more than I would worry that he would run with any of our secrets to another company or deliberately create back doors so others could break in more easily.”

McFist rolled his eyes. _“Then consider him with the rest of the candidates for your internship job and just be ready for him if you do give it to him.”_ That was easier said than done, though McFist wouldn’t necessarily realize that. _“Threaten him with the consequences of breach of contract or whatever it is.”_

“Of course, sir,” he said smoothly. “I was thinking, if the current situation is resolved unfavourably for the Sorcerer, then it may be to our advantage to hire a known friend of the Ninja.” McFist opened his mouth, but Viceroy continued before he had a chance to protest. “If we believe him to be in contact with the Ninja, we can feed him false information and lure the Ninja into a trap.” The secret half of the plans would need to be conducted on paper and burned immediately afterwards, with precautions taken for cameras, but Viceroy was confident he could pull it off.

_“I love it! Best idea I’ve had yet! Let’s do it!”_

Viceroy frowned; McFist didn’t appear to notice. “If it comes to it, I will certainly explore that possibility further. In the meantime, I’ll be sure to detain Bash so that he’s here when you arrive.”

_“And get the jet ready!”_

“Naturally, sir. Are you going to inform Marci?”

McFist’s bluster went out of him immediately. _“Ah, uh, when it’s necessary.”_

If they had to use the jet, Marci would be less than pleased about having no warning. But as the Sorcerer hadn’t yet targeted them, hadn’t yet come to see them, then there was the slight possibility that he didn’t mean to annihilate them after their repeated failures. McFist no doubt clung to that hope as much as Viceroy did. “Of course, sir.”

-|-

Randy groaned. If there was _ever_ a time the Ninja Dragon Fist (or whatever it was called) would have been useful, now was _definitely_ it. But First Ninja hadn’t ever taught him how to do it, regardless of Randy’s request. The Nomicon hadn’t coughed up the information yet, either, and he was convinced the door the lesson was behind was hiding or masquerading as something much more boring, because he hadn’t found it despite repeated searches. And he was _pretty_ sure that it wasn’t Forbidden Knowledge. He’d never seen it there, either.

And now the Sorcerer had the Tengu Stone. That spelled all _kinds_ of bad.

Truthfully, Randy wasn’t sure how the whole ‘enslaving people’ thing worked, but he knew the Sorcerer did, and that’s what mattered. 

“Yo, Ninja!”

Randy, who had gotten to his feet, glanced over his shoulder. Howard was coming up to him, huffing and puffing, followed easily by a girl hauling what he first thought was a vacuum cleaner. Sam, then. 

Sam gave him an appraising look while Howard caught his breath, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. “Nice suit,” Sam said. She didn’t even sound out of breath. How often did she usually have to haul things around in Amity Park?

“Uh, thanks.” She didn’t introduce herself, so chances were she already knew who he was. Randy pointed to the machine that had to be the extractor. “Have you tried that? Does it work?” _Please, please let it work._

Sam shook her head. “It’s set to extract stuff similar to the sample I gave it, but either the sample’s contaminated or, more likely, the Sorcerer’s stronger than the machine. These things were designed primarily for ghosts, not…whatever this is.”

“How’d you get a sample?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Have you looked around? It’s not that hard. Besides, Howard got some kid back to normal and I sucked some stuff up before it all dissipated.” 

At Randy’s glance, Howard straightened up and said, “Jacques.”

Yeesh, Spectra really _had_ talked to half the school in one day. “Okay, but even with that not working, we’ve got bigger problems.”

Sam frowned. “Bigger? What, something with those things Danny was after? I got the impression that hiding them so they didn’t join up with the Sorcerer was the point.”

Randy shook his head. “The Sorcerer has the Stone, Howard.”

Howard looked at him blankly. “What stone?”

“The Tengu Stone! That Stone!”

“Which means what, exactly?” Sam asked when neither of them volunteered an explanation.

“We just need to get it back,” Randy said. He didn’t want to scare her with the truth, not when knowing it wasn’t going to help her.

“Fine. At least tell me how to avoid turning into _that_ ,” Sam said, pointing up to— Randy turned and blinked. It was Julian, suspended in a web between two buildings. “I like spiders, but not that much.”

“Normally? You just don’t let anything get to you enough that you get turned into a prime target. Now?” Howard shrugged. “I dunno.”

“We are lucky he hasn’t stanked any of us,” Randy acknowledged. He somehow doubted the Ninja Suit made him immune, which really just made him feel like he was the mouse in a game of cat and mouse with the Sorcerer. He was going to be toyed with, and then he was going to be destroyed.

It was not the most comforting thought in the world.

Sam frowned. “There has to be some way to fight it off. There is with ghosts.”

Randy thought of the time the Sorceress had set Morgan, Flute Girl, and Heidi on him, turning them all into dogs. “Yeah, well, this _isn’t_ ghosts, and there isn’t.”

“My, aren’t we optimistic.” Sam readjusted her grip on the extractor. “This won’t help us now, so any ideas where we might be able to hide it for the time being where it won’t be accidentally destroyed?”

“Uh….”

“I’ll take it,” Howard said. “You can fill Sam in, Ninja.”

Sam relinquished the invention and Randy looked at her awkwardly. “Do you even _need_ filling in?” he asked as Howard walked off. With what she would’ve overheard on the Fenton Phone, she already knew more than most people in Norrisville.

Sam shrugged. “I’m still a little foggy on the Sorcerer. He’s evil and he’s not a ghost. That’s about all I know.”

“There’s not a whole lot more to it.” There was, but nothing useful, as far as Randy knew. “There’s a pit under the high school. We need to seal the Sorcerer back in there. But to actually seal him, we need to get the Stone away from him and toss him in the pit and find something to cover it with.” And the entire school would probably be destroyed in the process, if the shockwave from last time was anything to go by. That might’ve been from the Tengu returning to the Stone, though. Would they have to release it and seal it again, too, to properly seal the Sorcerer in his prison?

“And if we don’t manage that?”

“We’re shoobed.”

Sam’s frown returned. “There has to be something else.”

“If you find it, you let me know.” Randy glanced back up at the building. “I’ve gotta go. I don’t wanna leave the Sorcerer on his own for too long. You just, uh….”

“If you say keep my head down, then you’re crazy. I came here to help.”

“Watch your back, then, and help Howard destank the kids who can be more easily destanked, and….” Randy trailed off. “I dunno, maybe see if you can figure out a plan. Get Jazz on it, too.”

Sam’s lips thinned. “Fine,” she said. Into her Fenton Phone, she ordered, “Jazz, tell me everything you know about the Sorcerer.”

-|-

“That’s about all I was able to find,” Jazz murmured into her Fenton Phone. “Howard and Randy will have to fill you in on the rest.”

_“Yeah, Howard said he will. Thanks, Jazz.”_

“No problem.” Jazz glanced down at her clipboard. She’d convinced her mother it was best if she assessed their supplies, keeping a record of what had been set out and what had been used, but she’d just finished counting bandages in the last box. “Listen, I won’t be talking much more for a while. I don’t want anyone to figure anything out.”

_“Least of all your mom?”_

“She’s already giving me a hard time about you, Tucker, and Danny.” Jazz hesitated. “To be fair, she thought you came with Tucker.”

_“I would’ve, if I hadn’t made that promise to Grandma Ida. Whatever; we can deal with that fallout later. You just keep doing what you’re doing, and give us a shout if you learn anything.”_

“Your parents aren’t going to be worried?”

_“Nah. No more than usual. They’ll figure out soon enough you guys are in town and know that’s where I am.”_

Jazz frowned. “Even with what’s going on outside?”

_“You’d be surprised how much they can ignore or deny if it suits their purposes. Don’t worry; Grandma Ida will help me talk them out of renewing that restraining order on Danny.”_

Jazz sighed, knowing Sam had no qualms about worrying her parents—but then again, her parents were more likely to hire private investigators if she went missing than to drive through the streets, announcing to the world that they were looking for her. Of course, Sam wasn’t one who would worry about the backlash from her peers if her parents _did_ do that, but Jazz knew enough about the Mansons to know they would never be seen making a public spectacle like that.

“Good luck,” Jazz murmured. She’d talk to Bash; she’d seen him just a few minutes ago—looking for Sam, if she wasn’t mistaken—and he could let Sam’s parents know what was going on. 

Jazz tucked her clipboard under one arm and began weaving her way through the crowd. Most of the people were students, but the odd adult who wasn’t a teacher had gotten swept up in the flow and ended up here as well. Some were still terrified; others, confused. The confidence exuded by Maddie Fenton, however, was clearly catching. Most people believed they were safe behind the shimmer of the Fenton Ghost Shield.

Jazz knew it was a false hope, but given what she knew of the Sorcerer, she wasn’t fool enough to breathe a word of the truth.

As she squeezed between the makeshift media centre and the tables they’d set up with food, Jazz found her path blocked by Debbie Kang. The girl had her arms crossed and her jaw set and was giving Jazz a look that brooked no nonsense.

“I want answers,” Debbie insisted. “I’ve waited. It’s later, so spill.”

Jazz raised an eyebrow. “I’m a little busy right now.”

Debbie held out Tucker’s phone. Jazz took it, knowing she could give it back to Tucker when he turned up again. The list of text messages—some from her, some from Danny—was displayed prominently on the screen. “You think I can’t tell when something’s up? I know this town. I might be able to help.”

“You don’t even know what’s going on.”

“So fill me in! I can help.”

“I don’t know what’s going on, either,” Jazz said. Debbie gave her a sceptical look, so Jazz added, “It’s true. I don’t. You want to know what I know? There are monsters running through the streets. There’s some crazy guy out there who’s clearly bad news, and the Ninja has his work cut out for him.”

“And what about Phantom? Don’t tell me you don’t know about him.”

“He’s helping the Ninja. That’s what he does: he helps, the best he can.”

Debbie threw her arms up. “Do you think I’m an idiot? I know there’s more to the story than that. You’re involved, and Tucker, who’s apparently MIA, and no doubt that other girl who was talking to you earlier.”

Jazz just shrugged; wedged between tables and boxes as she was, she couldn’t do anything else. Debbie had chosen her ground well. “We work with Phantom back in Amity Park, so we’re helping him out here since we can.”

“So you’re helping the Ninja, too.” It wasn’t a question. “What do you know about him?”

“About what you do. He’s the hero of Norrisville. There are accounts of him dating back eight hundred years. He defends everyone from those monsters, helps turn them back into the people they are, and he fights off any robots that show up.”

“You say that like you don’t even find it weird.”

“I’ve given up being surprised for the time being. It’s easier. If you don’t think I can grow accustomed to finding out I don’t know nearly as much as I think I do, do some research of your own on Amity Park and you’ll see why I am the way I am.”

Debbie crossed her arms again and glared at Jazz for a few seconds before deciding it wasn’t having the desired effect. “Fine. Just….” She trailed off, her confidence withering with her anger and her accusations. She sounded more defeated than she ever had. The stress of the situation was getting to her, too, even if she didn’t like to show it. “Look, I’ll be honest here. I’m trying to dig up info on the Ninja. Anything you can tell me will be helpful.”

Jazz raised an eyebrow. “And you think I actually know anything helpful?” Debbie opened her mouth, probably to protest, so Jazz continued, “Look, from how he talks, he could very well be your age, so I’m not sure how this eight hundred years thing works. I certainly never dug up anything that disputed his existence for that long, and believe me, I was looking.” She wasn’t about to tell this girl what she knew of it all. She could admire Debbie’s perseverance, her curiosity and her keen interest, but Jazz knew the importance of secrets.

Debbie frowned. “I’m sure I go to school with him. His voice sounds familiar, but I just can’t….” She shook her head. “I’ll worry about that later. Right now, I want to be sure that there’s still gonna be a Ninja tomorrow.”

“Look up Amity Park,” Jazz advised. “DOMEWATCH, News 4. Lance Thunder was covering the story on the ground; Tiffany Snow was in the studio. Read up on that, and if you don’t think Danny Phantom can help out the Ninja, then we’ll talk. Otherwise, stay where you’ll be safe and be one less person the Ninja and Phantom have to worry about.”

Debbie pursed her lips. She didn’t look entirely happy, but Jazz knew her type; they were cut from similar cloths. The research would keep her busy and would spark more questions than it would answer, but it would give her something to do. More importantly, it would give her something to do that would keep her out of Jazz’s hair and would keep her inside, where it was as safe as it could be. “And this shield thing you guys have set up? Is that really going to help?”

Unfortunately, even if Jazz knew how Debbie thought, it didn’t make her any easier to fool. She did her best anyway. “It’s never failed to keep out ghosts.”

“But these guys _aren’t_ —”

“Debbie.” Jazz took a step closer and leaned in so that she could speak softly and still be heard clearly. The implied threat helped, too, psychological though it might be. Intimidation didn’t work on Danny any more—it really hadn’t since he’d discovered how attached she was to Bearbert Einstein—but Debbie knew little of her, and what she’d gleaned would hopefully paint a fiercer picture than the truth. “What’s better, do you think? Running in terror with no hope of sanctuary or order in the midst of chaos?”

Debbie went back on the defensive immediately, the spark returning to her eyes. “You think we ought to be sitting ducks?”

“I don’t think there’s any reason in ruining hope and poisoning morale when we may not need to.”

“So you’re telling me to keep my mouth shut?”

Jazz met Debbie’s challenge with a level look. “I’m telling you to think twice before you open your mouth. I might not have dealt with something like this before, but I’ve survived a crisis of this scale before, and blind panic always does more harm than good.”

Debbie gave one sharp nod. “All right. But I know you know more than you claim you do.” 

Jazz saw no reason to confirm that. “If you’ll excuse me?”

“Just one more thing. What did Pradeep have to say to you?”

Jazz had talked to many kids that night, and she didn’t remember all their names, but she did know Pradeep’s. “He just wanted a word with me. It’s none of your concern.”

Debbie clearly didn’t believe a word of that, but she let Jazz pass with a mutter of, “Fine, I’ll ask him instead.”

_Willpower_ , Randy had said. From what she’d learned and from what she’d seen herself, the Sorcerer preyed on the weak. He went after many of the same things as Spectra—misery, poor self-worth—and clearly had no qualms about turning terror to his advantage. He drew his power from chaos. 

Jazz knew her parents thought they were dealing with an outbreak of a ghostly disease. They were convinced the transformation was a symptom of the disease. Well, perhaps it _was_ a symptom. It was certainly the effect of the Sorcerer’s power. 

Debbie was right; they weren’t dealing with ghosts. But that didn’t mean there weren’t similarities. _Willpower_. Most of the lectures Jazz had endured from her parents on _that_ subject related to overshadowing. Possession. Someone with a strong enough will could fight back, perhaps fight off the ghost altogether. Some would succumb, aware of everything that was happening but being completely unable to regain control of their own body. Others—most—would be buried so deeply within themselves that they were blissfully unaware of what had happened to them until the ghost was expelled and they realized they couldn’t remember what they were doing or how they’d gotten there.

But the Sorcerer preyed upon the weak, not the strong. He could perhaps take the strong—Jazz wasn’t sure—but it was no doubt so much simpler to control the weak-willed. Randy had never mentioned the Sorcerer’s control over other creatures, but if willpower _was_ a factor, then either his power was limited and he could not possess them or his power over them was as much a factor of the strength of their will as it was over her own.

Jazz’s hand flew to her Fenton Phone. “Howard,” she said quietly, knowing Randy would be too busy to answer, “do the transformations extend to non-humans?”

_“Huh?”_

_“Animals.”_ The explanation came from Sam. _“She means animals. Can the Sorcerer turn them into monsters, too?”_

_“Oh. Yeah. Definitely rats, anyway.”_

Jazz pursed her lips. “Sam? Can you find my dad?”

_“No problem. I can’t see him right now, but I can hear him.”_

“See if he can be transformed.”

There were a few beats of silence. Then Howard’s voice: _“Uh, pretty sure the Sorcerer can stank anybody when he’s free.”_

“Yeah? So has he tried stanking Randy? Danny? You or Sam? Anyone who knows how this works, even?” 

Silence.

“We need to know where we stand,” Jazz said. “Keep me posted.” If the Sorcerer had gotten to Tucker, then she would rule that possibility out—Tucker could be seen as weak-willed in some instances but Jazz wasn’t fool enough to think that this was one of them—but since they still weren’t sure what had happened…. 

It wasn’t like Tucker to just disappear. Even without his cell phone, Tucker was far from disconnected. He had already contacted her with his PDA, and she knew he carried a backup on him in case the first one was inadvertently destroyed. He wasn’t careless enough to see both destroyed, and she doubted he’d be silent this long voluntarily.

She couldn’t help him now; she had to trust that the others would find him. Instead of worrying, Jazz passed her clipboard off to another kid with strict instructions to give it to the woman in the teal HAZMAT suit and went to talk to Bash.

-|-

Danny was very conscious of the fact that he wasn’t fighting a ghost.

It’s not that there weren’t similarities. The Sorcerer could send blasts of power like Danny could ectoblasts. The Sorcerer could control and transform practically anything into a weapon (which Danny had seen in one way or another with more than one ghost, Technus included) and the Sorcerer could manipulate his magic (stank, to use Randy’s name for it) to form a shield, giant arm, or whatever he seemed to need whenever he seemed to need it. He was fast, he was strong, and he very unfortunately wasn’t stupid.

The trouble was, he wasn’t getting any weaker, wasn’t showing any signs of slowing down, even the odd time when Danny _did_ manage to land a hit on him.

Like Ember drew power from people chanting her name, the Sorcerer drew power from the chaos he’d created.

And then there was the fact that he seemed to know where Danny was even when he was invisible.

“You’re a young spirit, aren’t you?” the Sorcerer observed as he blocked Danny’s latest attack and knocked him back with enough force that his concentration lapsed and he lost his grip on his invisibility. 

Invisibility was useless; even if the Sorcerer couldn’t actually see him, he could definitely sense him. Most of his ectoblasts were blocked, and he landed maybe one physical attack in ten. Danny took a breath and then focused on blasting the Sorcerer with an ice ray. To his surprise, it worked. Danny blinked, wondering why Randy hadn’t tried that.

The block of ice in which the Sorcerer was encased exploded, and Danny wasn’t fast enough with his intangibility to avoid the icy shards. He yelped as they tore into him, some digging deeper than others. He turned intangible for a few seconds to let them drop. Ectoplasm leaked from the deeper wounds, but the scratches were already beginning to heal over. He still had more than enough energy to regenerate, more than enough energy to keep fighting.

Tendrils of green stank twisted into arms and seized Danny, immobilizing him where he floated. Before he could go intangible again, they began squeezing, sending a spike of pain through his body and breaking his concentration. The Sorcerer chuckled. “Very young,” he concluded.

Danny kept struggling, but he was going nowhere fast. He built up an ectoblast and the Sorcerer’s grip loosened when he released it, scattering one arm and seeming to wound the Sorcerer’s real one in the process, but all too quickly he was back in an iron grip. “Let me _go_ ,” he grunted.

The Sorcerer drifted closer. Danny had lost sight of the rat a while ago and figured it might’ve gone after Randy. He would’ve split himself and gone after it if he hadn’t feared he’d need all his strength to fight the Sorcerer. 

He was beginning to realize that he should, perhaps, have used _everything_ in his arsenal if he’d hoped to beat this guy on his own. He hadn’t wanted to use his ghostly wail, but better to be mostly drained of energy and weaken his opponent than to be captured without even trying. He took a deep breath—

—and his eyes caught on a golden orb the Sorcerer held up. It was the Carp’s Eye, the Tengu Stone.

It was the last thing Danny remembered.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick thank you to everyone who's taken the time to read and especially to those who have reviewed this story. I appreciate it!

Jack closed one eye as he took aim with the Fenton Bazooka. He could see a number of infected people roaming the streets ahead of him. He could see the Ninja flip back to the rooftop to join the others. He could see Phantom, caught in the clutches of the sorcerer ghost. That was the ghost in Jack’s sights, that last one. He was more of an unknown than the Ninja, since there were stories about him. This ghost….

This ghost reminded Jack entirely too much of the more unsavoury sort that had attacked Amity Park. He wouldn’t say any ghosts were harmless, but some were certainly more destructive than others. 

Jack took his shot. It went wide of the Sorcerer, hitting a place between that ghost and Phantom. The portal that opened pulled in the giant arms created by the Sorcerer before dwindling and closing. Jack frowned and took the Bazooka off its portal setting; that was only effective once a ghost was too weak to overcome the sudden gravitational field of the portal torn in reality. What he needed right now was the Bazooka on its other setting. He needed a blaster that packed a punch.

He still hadn’t heard anything about Danny, and he certainly hadn’t seen him. That worried Jack more than these ghosts, though if they had _done_ anything to Danny, they would wish they had never been formed by the time he was through with them.

Nothing of Danny. Nothing of Tucker. No word from Maddie, and certainly no word from Jazz. Maddie had told him to put on a Fenton Phone, that the kids were surely using that as a communication device. Jack hadn’t done that yet, wanting to see if he could find them without invading on their conversations like that, but now that he couldn’t….

Jack slipped the Fenton Phone on his ear, making sure his line remained muted. They weren’t talking at the moment, but they would be soon enough. If they didn’t, he’d talk to Danny and Tucker directly.

And that’s when he spotted Sam out of the corner of his eye, darting from the corner of one building to another across the street.

He should have known she hadn’t listened to him.

He dropped back to join her in the shadows. She looked surprised that he’d seen her, but she looked even more surprised when he reached into his pocket and pulled out an ectogun for both her and her new friend. Jack remembered him. He was one of the two Norrisville kids interested in ghosts.

“Keep your Fenton Utility Weapons as backup,” Jack said as the kids took the ectoguns. “I still want you to head back to McFist Industries, but you should at least carry an ectogun with you in case one of the infected kids decides to attack.” They would still just prove to be deterrents—the blasts didn’t do as much harm as they would to real ghosts—but they would hopefully prove to be bigger deterrents. “And tell Danny and Tucker to fall back, too. It’s dangerous out here.”

Sam shook her head. “It’s okay, Mr. Fenton. We know what we’re doing. Danny and Jazz have been training us. We know more than you think we do.”

If Danny and Jazz truly were interested enough in ghost hunting to train Danny’s friends, why did they always flatly refuse to go hunting as a family? Jack didn’t have time to pick apart the suspected lie, however. “Whatever you know hasn’t prepared you for this,” he said. “I’d feel better if I knew you were safely behind the Ghost Shield.”

“Um….” The boy Sam was with—Howard, Jack remembered finally—held up one finger. “But what if we aren’t safe behind the ghost shield?”

“You will be! Tell ‘im, Sam. The Fenton Ghost Shield keeps out all ghosts, no matter how strong they are!”

“But….” Howard frowned. “What if these aren’t ghosts?”

“They aren’t all strictly ghosts,” Jack allowed, “but the kids infected with the ghost disease who have been transformed carry enough expressed ectoplasm in them that they’ll still be kept out by the Ghost Shield.” He clapped Howard on the back, causing the boy to almost fall flat on his face. “I like your enthusiasm! We’ll talk when I join you guys back in the safe zone.”

Sam let out an exaggerated sigh. “Come on, Howard. Looks like we don’t have a choice.”

“Huh?”

“If we don’t go back by ourselves, we’ll just get dragged back.”

The thought had crossed Jack’s mind, but he really wouldn’t have wanted to resort to that. He trusted that the kids all had a good head on their shoulders, that they wouldn’t need any threats to see sense. Sam certainly didn’t. He suspected she was making the threat for him, thinking that was the only way to get Howard to agree. He was proud of her, even if he didn’t think making threats on his behalf was particularly necessary.

He’d have to take the kids ghost hunting when they got back. It’s not that he didn’t trust Danny and Jazz to teach Sam and Tucker well, but he had a much better idea of what his kids could handle—Jazz especially—than he did Sam and Tucker. He was glad Jazz was out of this. He wanted Danny out of it, too. There was pushing them, testing their skills in the field, and then there was real danger without more experienced backup. All ghost hunting was dangerous, of course, but this….

This felt more on the level of that Pariah Dark ghost, and Jack didn’t want to subject his kids to _that_ if he could help it.

“Call me when you get in,” Jack said, tapping his Fenton Phone as Sam and Howard reluctantly retreated.

“Sure thing, Mr. Fenton,” Sam said dutifully.

As they disappeared around the corner, Jack turned his attention back to the ghosts on the rooftop. He needed to deal with them first. At the very least, he needed to deal with that sorcerer ghost. Once he had that ghost contained, he could worry about the others and worry about the infected people. 

But if he didn’t hear from Danny or Tucker soon, then finding _them_ was his first priority. He’d listen in and see if Sam called them back. If she didn’t, then he’d start searching for them. Since they were ghost hunting, though, Jack knew he wouldn’t have to search far. They’d keep the ghosts in their line of sight. They knew that much. All he had to was keep circling the area until he found them.

-|-

Randy had run into and successfully destanked the Sorcerer’s rat on his way back up to the roof, but he wasn’t convinced that was for the best. That rat had seemed pretty smart for a rat, and it had scampered the moment it had regained its senses. He had a horrible feeling that the whole thing might’ve been some sort of test and he’d just done exactly what the Sorcerer had wanted.

What he saw upon his arrival didn’t prove that he hadn’t.

Sure, the Sorcerer’s grip on Danny was broken a moment later by a sudden burst of _something_. (If Randy was going to guess, he’d say ‘portal’, but if that were the case, he didn’t know what had caused it to open or where it led, since it didn’t look like the Land of Shadows. And it hadn’t helped the Sorcerer, which probably would’ve happened if it had been the Land of Shadows, because it would’ve gotten him together with the Sorceress, and Randy _really_ didn’t want to see that.) But Danny didn’t move once the Sorcerer released him, and that just gave Randy a bad feeling.

“So. Ninja.” The Sorcerer turned to smile at him. Danny still hung in the air, motionless. “Do you want to see why this is a battle you will never win?”

Randy eyed Danny uncertainly. Maybe he was faking, waiting for the best moment to attack and catch the Sorcerer unawares?

Or maybe the battle rat had been a distraction and Randy had fallen for it.

Randy pulled out his sword. “I should be saying that to you,” he said. “You’re never gonna win.”

“No?” The Sorcerer sounded entirely too amused for Randy to be comfortable. “Then maybe—”

Randy didn’t wait for him to finish. He ran forward, his sword bursting into flames as he got within feet of the Sorcerer. He adjusted his grip, ready to thrust his sword forward—

—and a hand clamped down onto his wrist with an iron grip.

Danny’s hand.

Randy’s stop was less than graceful, his forward momentum carrying him over into a flip. He landed squarely on his bottom, his sword flat on the roof beside him and one arm—which had nearly been wrenched out its socket—above his head where Danny still held it. Randy was so surprised he lost his concentration. The flames on his sword flickered and died, and his suit darkened back to black. The first thing out of his mouth was an undignified, “Ow!”, followed closely by, “What the juice, Phantom?”

And then he became aware of the Sorcerer’s low chuckle.

Randy swallowed and shifted his gaze to Danny’s expressionless face. “Um…please let me go?”

He hadn’t needed to be tossed into the next building with bone-rattling force to know that things weren’t going his way.

Randy wasn’t going to give up, though. He got back to the roof in record time and managed to scoop up and tuck away his sword within seconds. He dodged Danny’s ectoblasts, hurling a fireball at the Sorcerer and a Ninja Bee Ball at Danny. He threw Ninja Throwing Stars and Ninja Rings at both of them. He kept his mouth shut and didn’t say a word when he conjured the Ninja Air Fist and followed it with multiple Ninja Tengu Fireballs. He went through almost all the different kinds of Ninja Throwing Balls he had, indiscriminately tossing them at both Danny and the Sorcerer.

But the fight was two against one, and Danny was pretty good at knocking anything physical out of the Sorcerer’s way. Less than half of Randy’s attacks on the Sorcerer got through, and less than half of _those_ got close enough to do so much as scorch the stone at his feet.

“Had enough, Ninja?” the Sorcerer asked when Randy found his feet frozen to the rooftop. 

Hacking at the ice had gotten him nowhere last time. At least if he tried melting it this time, he didn’t have to worry about setting everything around him on fire. Randy threw some Ninja Ice Balls at the others and focused his firepower on his feet, freeing them before flipping around and sending a giant fireball at the Sorcerer.

Which Danny shot with ice, like he had the first time, counteracting it before it ever reached the Sorcerer.

This sucked.

He didn’t even have the Tengu as backup.

Man, he could _really_ use First Ninja right about now, coming in with that Ninja Dragon—

Randy blinked as the Sorcerer was suddenly engulfed in green flames. The light died, and a second shot hit Danny, sending him crashing down to the roof. 

Not flames.

Lasers. 

The kind shot by—

“Eat Fenton Fire, ghost!” Jack Fenton growled as he shot off another volley at the still-standing Sorcerer before climbing the last of the steps of the fire escape. He had one of the large blaster inventions with him, and he did not look happy. 

Randy took a few involuntary steps backwards and held up his hands as the gun was turned to him. “Not a ghost, I swear!”

Jack snorted but didn’t fire. “We fight this Sorcerer first,” he said.

Randy nodded, eager to take whatever he could get. “Yes! And, uh, about Phantom….” He winced at Jack’s look. “He’s, uh, not himself at the moment. The Sorcerer’s controlling him. So try not to hurt him.”

“Ghosts don’t feel pain,” Jack said dismissively. And while he never turned his back on Randy, he kept his attention on Danny and on the Sorcerer.

Jack Fenton definitely wasn’t the backup Randy had expected, but if he could just get the Tengu Stone away from the Sorcerer, it would be a start. True, he couldn’t _see_ the Stone at the moment, but with Jack being here, it gave the Sorcerer additional reason to draw it out.

He enjoyed toying with the Ninja; he didn’t need to waste time dealing with anyone else.

Randy kept up his own attack, dodging blasts from everyone else (including Jack; half his shots seemed to go wide) and trying to taunt the Sorcerer, egging him into doing what Randy wanted.

That didn’t exactly work, and Randy was about to give up and try changing tacks completely when shooting began from the building across the street. The shots weren’t great but seemed pretty decent considering the distance. Randy glanced over, spotting a solitary figure on the roof. _Howard_. Even if Sam wasn’t with him, she couldn’t be far; he doubted Sam would’ve left Howard on his own or that Howard would’ve agreed to shoot and begin drawing attention to himself if Sam didn’t have something else up her sleeve. That Howard was up on the building wasn’t a shocker, though. Howard had scaled enough buildings in his time that he was surprisingly good at finding the fastest way up (and down) all of them.

Jack Fenton was unexpectedly quick for a man of his stature, but the Sorcerer treated him as more of an annoyance than anything else. After Jack climbed to his feet yet again, though, to begin firing at the Sorcerer, the Sorcerer flicked a hand. Instead of conjuring a stank arm and sending Jack flying with a well-placed swat, like Randy had expected, the motion signalled Danny. He moved to float behind his father, a bright green ectoblast building in his hands. 

Jack was already turning, having sensed the threat even before Randy shouted his warning, but he wasn’t fast enough. The blast came hard and fast, and Jack was too close to the edge of the building to keep his balance. He teetered, arms windmilling wildly, his weapon falling to the street below. Randy, who was already running to the other side, threw out his scarf in a desperate attempt to snatch the man back to safety.

The scarf fell short.

Jack Fenton fell.

-|-

Sam screamed as she saw Danny’s father topple over the edge. She couldn’t stop herself. She’d been climbing the fire escape as fast as she could, but she’d never imagined—

“Danny!” she shouted as she swung first one leg and then the other over the edge and ran out onto the rooftop. “Get him!”

She saw Randy take a desperate dive over the roof, holding his scarf as if he intended to tie it to something and swing like Tarzan, and she fought the urge to see if he was successful. She had to believe he would be. She had to believe he’d reach Jack before— _Don’t think about that._

“Danny!” Danny hadn’t moved until then, but he finally turned to look at her. Sam knew that look. She’d seen it on Danny before, and she’d never wanted to see it on him again. He wasn’t himself. This was…this was like that time with Freakshow all over again.

Sam swallowed. 

If this was like Freakshow, then that should have snapped him out of it. He should already be flying to catch up with his falling father, to catch him before— _Don’t think about that._ She needed to keep focused. She needed to snap Danny out of it.

If she could.

“Danny,” Sam said again. Her voice quavered, and she took a deep breath in a vain attempt to steady her nerves. “Danny, you have to fight it.” She kept her gaze on Danny, not wanting to look at the Sorcerer. She couldn’t see any sign of recognition on her friend’s face, no sign of _him_ in his eyes. But she knew he wasn’t gone. “You’re stronger than this. I know you are. _Fight back_.”

Danny’s blank, expressionless gaze made her skin crawl.

“You fear him.”

Sam flinched.

“You fear his power, what he can do if he loses control.” The voice—the Sorcerer’s—sounded downright amused, and it sent shivers down Sam’s spine. “You fear that he is a monster of your own creation.”

“Danny, please.” Sam had an ectogun with her, but she wasn’t so sure she wanted to take her eyes off Danny to take a shot at the Sorcerer. Howard had stopped shooting now—maybe he’d gone to help Randy, as much as he could—but even Jack Fenton could land some of his hits when it was this close range. Besides, if the Sorcerer’s control over Danny _was_ like it had been with Freakshow, then the Sorcerer had something like Freakshow had had his staff, and he was using _that_ to control Danny. And if she couldn’t see it, it wouldn’t be something that was easy to knock from his grip.

Of course, that was assuming the Sorcerer’s current control over Danny went through some sort of medium. If it didn’t, if it was direct, just like most of Desiree’s spells….

Danny drifted closer to her, still the mindless pawn.

Sam wasn’t sure she could move her feet now even if it turned out she needed to.

“Would you care to join him?” The Sorcerer’s voice was cajoling now. “It would be so easy. You wouldn’t be like him, per se, but you could be powerful like he is. You envy that in him, do you not? The part of you which does not fear his powers craves them.”

One of Danny’s hands reached out, beckoning to her. Sam stepped back involuntarily, her legs bumping against the edge of the roof. “Danny….”

The Sorcerer swept into her view. His smile was wide but not maniac; he had all his wits about him. That terrified Sam all the more. He wasn’t a ghost. Nothing she had on her was going to do much against him. 

Maybe separating from Howard hadn’t been the brightest idea she’d had today. She would have appreciated having someone to watch her back, especially now that Randy was gone.

But the Sorcerer had never made a move to control Jack. Perhaps whatever means he used to control Danny wasn’t suited to control multiple people at once, but Sam wasn’t about to bet on that. Freakshow hadn’t had any trouble controlling Lydia or the rest of them until he’d made the mistake of controlling Danny. More likely, the Sorcerer didn’t want to control Jack. She wasn’t sure why; he could seem intimidating until you got to know him. Maybe he was most useful when he wasn’t being controlled. Maybe it was better to threaten another one of Randy’s allies, to break _his_ spirit instead.

Yet if the Sorcerer thrived on chaos, Sam wasn’t sure why he would pass up the opportunity to at least stank Jack Fenton. From what she’d seen of the monsters in the streets, transforming someone like Jack—who was already a monster of a man in size to begin with—would have added to the mayhem. And it certainly would’ve shaken Randy to see one of his allies transformed right in front of him.

Willpower.

Sam slowly reached up one hand to her Fenton Phone; neither the Sorcerer nor Danny made any move to stop her. “Negative, Jazz,” she whispered. She muted her mike without saying more. If Jazz _was_ onto something, she didn’t want to give the Sorcerer any more clues about that than he already had.

Randy had been babbling on about how they needed this Tengu Stone. She didn’t know if it had anything to do with the Sorcerer’s control over Danny, but if they needed it to seal him back in the pit, then she should at least try to get it. She was here, after all. She hadn’t climbed up here for nothing.

She hadn’t expected to find what she had at the top, though.

“It’s a long way down,” the Sorcerer said, his voice light and holding only a touch of taunting in its tone. The threat, however, was unmistakeable. 

Was he giving her time or buying it, trying to feel her out? Sam wasn’t sure. She balled her hands into fists, steeling herself. If she didn’t make a move, the Sorcerer would deem her useless, and he would get rid of her. She’d had to act a part before, pretending to be something she wasn’t, but she didn’t think that would cut it this time. The Sorcerer had a way of getting into your head, like Spectra, and she had to tell herself that he couldn’t know what she was thinking or he would’ve had Danny blast her off the roof already.

Just like he had had Jack, no doubt.

_Don’t think about that._

“What did you do to Danny?” Sam had meant the words to be a challenge, but they came out weak, sounding more like a broken plea than anything else. 

The Sorcerer’s low chuckle did nothing for her nerves. “He is a demonstration of what you will all be.”

The control looked absolute, if Danny couldn’t fight it. Sam knew he’d be fighting tooth and nail inside, wrestling to regain control, but she’d seen no waver in him that meant he might be gaining a foothold, might be close to winning, to throwing it off. _Danny…._ Sam forced herself to look at the Sorcerer again. “The Ninja will defeat you.” She was able to put strength behind her words this time, to believe them herself. “He will, just like he did last time.”

The Sorcerer’s face twisted. “This time is not the last,” he spat. He gestured at Danny. “This boy serves to remind the Ninja of that. He will lose all his pathetic little allies, and he will lose to me. Once he knows all is lost, once I have crushed his will, I will destroy him.”

“But what if you can’t?” Sam was just trying to buy time at this point to figure out a plan. The Sorcerer was talking; she wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible. She didn’t have as much experience as Danny when it came to getting their enemies to talk, but she had enough.

“The Ninja’s fight is futile,” the Sorcerer said dismissively. “He has already lost.”

Sam’s mouth twisted. “Danny,” she called, keeping her eyes locked on the Sorcerer, “remember Pariah Dark. Everyone ran from him, thinking the war was already lost, never mind the battles, but you fought, and you beat him. We can do it again. You just need to wake up!”

Sam heard a squeak behind her and she jumped in spite of herself. The Sorcerer looked at her with consideration. “Yes, you’re quite right,” he said.

Sam blinked. “What? I am?” She’d never expected him to agree with her.

“Not you,” the Sorcerer said flippantly. A rat scuttled past her leg, and Sam flinched, even though she prided herself on not being afraid of anything that sent most girls squealing. The Sorcerer bent to pick up the rat. “She is unnecessary, isn’t she?” He nodded as the rat squeaked again. “Yes, maybe her blood will have the Ninja thinking twice.”

Sam went cold as Danny moved toward her again. She’d seen no movement on the Sorcerer’s part this time, no indication that he had signalled Danny, but maybe he didn’t need to do anything so obvious. She screamed as bright, acid green light grew in Danny’s hands. She’d seen it far too many times to deny what was coming next, but she couldn’t bring herself to believe that Danny could…that Danny _would_ …. “Danny, no!”

“Destroy her,” the Sorcerer said.

Sam’s legs came to life and she was running before she realized what she was doing. She threw herself at the Sorcerer in a tackle that would’ve made Dash proud, and the world exploded into blinding green light.


	28. Chapter 28

Howard was the one who saw the golden orb fly off the roof.

He was also the one who risked life and limb to catch it.

Okay, he’d already gotten down to street level by then, and maybe it wasn’t exactly a _hard_ catch, but he was totally the one who caught it.

And, fortunately for him and his current, non-possessed state, it wasn’t even cracked.

Howard grinned and shoved the Stone into his pocket. This day had gotten infinitely better already. “Hey, Ninja,” he called, turning, “I’ve got the— Oh.”

Maybe it was morbid curiosity, but Howard couldn’t help but walk over to Randy and the orange-clad figure he was leaning over. 

“Got the Stone,” Howard offered.

Randy jumped, and Howard caught the panic in his eyes as he turned. “Great.” He sounded distracted, like Howard’s words hadn’t even registered. He should definitely be happier about it than he was. It wasn’t like the Sorcerer’s battle rat had dropped Howard at the Sorcerer’s feet again. Still, Randy was already bending back over Mr. Fenton.

“He gonna be okay?” Howard asked slowly. He _looked_ okay. Sure, he wasn’t moving, but he wasn’t a smear on the pavement, so that was a plus. The cracked pavement beneath him and the blood Howard could see wasn’t, though.

“I’ve just…. I’ve gotta focus.” There was a note of hysteria in Randy’s voice that didn’t belong. He was better than this in bad situations. 

Howard leaned forward. “He’s still breathing, right?” 

Randy nodded distractedly. “Yeah, but….” He shook his head, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He opened his eyes and held his hands over Jack Fenton’s chest. “Ninja Art of Healing!”

It couldn’t be the first time Randy had tried that. Now that Howard looked closer, Jack’s jumpsuit thing had definitely been scorched but good. That was kinda surprising—Howard had assumed they wore the things because they were flame-retardant along with everything else he could think of—but there was certainly no denying the damage. Pink skin beneath had to be good, though, right? It had to mean Randy’s thing had worked.

And it didn’t look like Randy had inadvertently brought anything else back to life, either, so, again, definite plus. 

Howard wasn’t stupid. He’d seen Jack fall and had known it was going to be close even before he saw Randy take a dive off the roof. That was why he’d scrammed and gotten down here as fast as he had. That he’d made it in time to catch the Tengu Stone before it smashed and the bird demon just happened to fly up his butt again was simply good timing on his part. 

“I think he’s fine,” Howard said when Randy dropped his hands.

“But he’s not waking up!”

“So? Maybe he just needs to sleep it off. It’s not like you drag out the whole Ninja Art of Healing thing often enough to know exactly how it works. You’ve definitely healed him some, and you caught him before he hit the ground or this crater would be way bigger.”

Randy sat back on his heels. “I guess. I just…. I think he hit his head or something.”

“So sleeping it off is good, right?”

Howard couldn’t see Randy’s face, but he was pretty sure his friend had just frowned at him. “Are you sure you have that right?”

“I’ll help you drag him inside,” Howard said, jabbing his thumb at the building he’d just come from. He and Sam had picked that one for both proximity and the fact that Sam had managed to break the door down. Some people just didn’t bar their doors well enough. The actual occupants were either hiding in bathrooms or had fled, though, because the place had been deserted when they’d run through it earlier.

“You really think it’s safe to move him?”

“You really think it’s safe to leave him out here?”

“Good point.” With a bit of straining, Randy managed to manoeuvre Jack so that the man was leaning on his shoulder, one arm slung across Randy’s back and feet dragging on the ground. “Aren’t you going to help me?”

“Eh, it looks like you’ve got it covered.”

Randy rolled his eyes. “At least get the door.”

Howard did. “So what exactly happened up there? It looked like Danny went nuts.”

“The Sorcerer’s controlling him,” Randy said as he let Jack drop to the floor. “That should be pretty obvious. I didn’t want to leave him alone with the Sorcerer again, but—”

“He’s not alone. Sam’s up there.”

“Wait, what?”

“That was the plan. Sam was heading up to join you guys. She got there right about the time you took a swan dive.”

“Huh?” Randy swivelled to look at the building—as if he could even see the rooftop through the storefront window from this angle. “She didn’t really, did she? How come you let her?”

Howard shrugged, even though Randy wasn’t looking at him. “You try standing up to her and then we can talk,” he said. 

Randy, however, was already running for the door. “I’ve gotta get her down here! She can’t fight off both the Sorcerer _and_ Phantom!”

“You forget I have the Stone or something?” Howard muttered. He wasn’t dumb enough to yell it, not when the Sorcerer might hear and they might still get away with this if he didn’t. 

Not that they had a real plan beyond ‘get the Sorcerer back into the pit and seal him…somehow’, but whatever. He wasn’t that big on plans, especially since Randy had become the Ninja. Most of the plans they made tended to get called on account of it being ‘Ninja-o’-Clock’ or something like that. He much preferred the spur-of-the-moment, video-gaming-for-hours type of plans. 

“Yo, Jazz, you listening?” Howard asked as he turned on the mike of his Fenton Phone.

_“You’ve got news?”_

“Yeah, but not much good. Your dad’s out of it but I think he’s fine. Danny’s possessed—”

_“He’s_ what _?”_

“—Randy just went to check on Sam, and Tucker’s still MIA. I’ve got the Stone, though. You know about that? I forget.”

_“It’s been mentioned, and I read something at the library. Look, we need to deal with this sooner rather than later. I can’t keep Mom from going out forever, especially since Dad hasn’t checked in for a while.”_

“Uh huh. But Randy did fill you in on what the Nomicon said, right?”

_“Not really.”_

“I thought he told you guys to come up with a plan.”

_“Doesn’t mean he told me everything that could be useful. You know what he was told?”_

Randy hadn’t stopped quoting the Nomicon since before the Fentons had ever entered the picture, back when he was trying to figure out what it meant. Howard wasn’t so sure it was relevant anymore, and he said as much when he filled Jazz in, but he wasn’t going to go up shooting again—especially not now that he knew for sure Danny was being controlled by the Sorcerer—and he was safer where he was with the monsters still on the streets. “I’ll just hang out here till your dad wakes up,” he added. He could keep the stanked kids away easily enough if he couldn’t destank them. Hopefully. And Sam had left the extractor thing here, so he had another weapon on his side if ghosts decided to show up. He wasn’t sure how well it would hold up if he handled it for long periods of time, but the lipstick thing hadn’t exploded so far and he took that for the good sign it was.

_“Thanks.”_ The relief in Jazz’s voice was evident. _“But we need to see if we can find some way to turn this back against the Sorcerer.”_

Was she kidding? _This_ was _chaos_ , and the Sorcerer ruled that. “Uh, pretty sure we can’t do that.”

_“People are gullible, and they’ll happily latch onto an easier lie than believe the truth. This would be easier if we knew where Tucker was—we could really use his skills right now—but we need to spread the word that this is something it isn’t.”_

“Like what?”

There was a pause, then a tentative, _“Movie being filmed?”_

“We don’t even have cameras!”

_“Do you or Randy own a camcorder? We can make this work, pretend we have access to McFist’s security footage and have that to fill in the holes. Think about it. Terrible plague of monsters, lightning-quick attack, all our extras unwitting townspeople….”_

“You’re kidding, right? How the cheese do you figure we can pull that off? Even if they believe us, they’ll think we’ve trashed the town.” Howard shook his head even though she couldn’t see him. “People uniting because they think we’ve wonked their cheese ain’t gonna help us fight the Sorcerer. We gotta take him down some other way. Just, y’know, while your brother’s fighting us.” Sure, he had the Tengu Stone now, but that didn’t mean he knew how to reverse whatever the Sorcerer had done—and he didn’t know for sure the Sorcerer had used that and not one of his power balls.

_“You have the Xtractor with you. Even if Phantom’s not possessing someone, he’s still a ghost, and he can still be caught in the Xtractor. Just make sure you have it on Fenton Weasel Mode. It’s stronger than a thermos. It should hold him even without him taking some heavy hits first. The Xtractor is designed to hold a few strong ghosts as opposed to many weaker ones.”_

“Uh huh.” Howard didn’t feel like pretending he’d understood all of that, and it was way easier just to ignore it. “Maybe you should just keep trying to figure out if the Nomicon was telling Randy anything else.”

_“I_ am. _Reflections, remember? It’s not just what you see in a mirror. We need to turn what the Sorcerer’s throwing at us back at him as best we can.”_

And they’d gotten absolutely nowhere trying to figure out how to do that. Howard was in no way willing to be possessed by the Tengu again and Randy wasn’t around to trick him into it, but there had to be something else. Or maybe they _were_ just trying to read way too much into the Nomicon’s message. 

It would be a lot more useful if Randy had left the Nomicon with him. Maybe he could’ve managed to go into it without Randy and talk to First Ninja or something. Howard might even have relented and let First Ninja use his body if it came to that, staying in the Nomicon while First Ninja took over in the real world. But then again, he wouldn’t have his own Ninja Suit that way. And it was entirely too likely that Howard would just accidentally release NomiRandy instead if he tried something like that. Nope, he was way better off just cooling his heels out here for a while, safely away from the line of fire.

Howard pulled the Stone out of his pocket and looked at it. Maybe somebody _else_ could get possessed by the Tengu? 

“I’ll keep thinking,” he said. He might not be a huge fan of plans that didn’t involve pranks or something that was somehow beneficial for him—beneficial beyond saving his own skin; this was totally the Ninja’s job—but he was much better at this spur-of-the-moment-idea thing than Randy was. He was, arguably, more inclined to have a brainwave if he actually put his mind to it.

But, man, breakfast was so long ago now. Howard glanced at Jack; the man was still out cold, but maybe he’d be hungry when he woke up. That was excuse enough to go look for a vending machine. He might not have money on him, but Mr. Fenton might, and even if he didn’t, Howard had picked up a few tricks from Randy’s Ninja fights. He was pretty confident he could get a snack if it came to it. And he had much better ideas when he had a full stomach. That decided, Howard got to his feet and went off in search of snacks. He wouldn’t be gone long anyway.

-|-

Danny blinked, trying to clear his head and his vision. The only thing that seemed to be working properly right now was his nose, which wrinkled as a horrible smell assaulted it. Burnt flesh was prominent. Hair, too, if he were remembering the smell correctly from the time he’d accidentally set Jazz’s hair on fire when he’d been six and touching something he shouldn’t have. Something that was almost like melted plastic, and then just this awful musty—

Danny blinked away the last of the fog from his eyes and froze, a sickening feeling swelling inside him. He stared at the scene in front of him, horrified and reminded far too much of the awful things he’d seen in the future that wasn’t to be.

_You’re going to destroy everything you mean to protect by yourself._

Spectra’s words were traitorously repeated by his mind. Danny tried to deny it, to refuse to believe that even for a second, let alone accept it. _No._ She’d just been saying that to throw him off his game. This wasn’t what it looked like. It…it couldn’t be…. 

The Sorcerer was flat on the roof, but he was already moving, pulling himself up from underneath Sam. But Danny couldn’t bring himself to focus on him, to attack and try to weaken him, because Sam _wasn’t_ moving.

_No, no, no, no, no…._

“Ninja Air Fist!”

The blast of wind knocked Danny down painfully onto the edge of the roof, some bricks cracking and crumbling beneath him. By the time he’d righted himself, Randy and Sam were both gone. And the Sorcerer….

The Sorcerer wasn’t even looking at him.

Danny nearly choked as his ghost sense went off, frigid breath frosting even in this cooler air that warned of winter’s coming. He felt…off. Wrong. And he suspected he knew why. He’d felt this way before. But to think that it had happened again, and that he hadn’t…that he’d just….

A shudder ran through Danny as a hand fell onto his shoulder. He immediately felt worse, though he hadn’t thought that possible a moment before. The Sorcerer was looking at him now. No, not at him, at—

“Spectra.” His voice cracked on her name, and he erupted into a fit of coughing.

The hand left his shoulder and Danny sagged to the roof, feeling exhausted and all kinds of awful.

“I propose a new deal,” Spectra said. With great effort, Danny turned so that he could see her. She was in her shadow form. She held two of the Sorcerer’s power balls, suspended above the palm of her right hand but held under her control despite the obvious strain it must have taken. Even as Danny watched, the balls leapt about in a wild dance and fought to join the others swirling high above them.

Surely she hadn’t just swiped them from—

Oh.

Crud.

She’d probably _followed_ him. Sure, his ghost sense had gone off again when he’d passed through town, but he knew that she’d sent Bertrand out somewhere and that she was planning on at least coming back to the school, so he’d known he’d run into her again. He just hadn’t….

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._ This was Spectra. Of course she’d played him. Between Randy’s warnings about hanging onto the power balls and Spectra’s warnings about giving them back, Danny hadn’t seriously considered holding onto them. She had two and had kept one in reserve, for leverage, some kind of additional bargaining power. Quite likely, the one Randy had found, since Danny had been there last.

And now she was going to give them back to the Sorcerer in exchange for who knew what. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t be good. Danny would bet on that.

“I’m listening,” was all the Sorcerer said.

“I’ve two of your orbs here,” Spectra began, “and I know the location of the other two.” Other _two_? Maybe she hadn’t just been following him. Danny had never seen a fourth one on its own. “You broke off our other bargain early, Sorcerer. You didn’t even give me a full two days.”

“You had time enough.” 

“Time enough for you to use my work to seek your own freedom.” Spectra actually sounded condescending. Danny had no clue how she was getting away with it. “What else did you leave unsaid in our previous deal?”

The Sorcerer waved a hand, causing the orbs to jerk forward. Spectra’s right hand tightened into a fist, and they snapped back towards her. “Did you not wish to propose a new deal?”

“It’s best to get clarifications on the old one first.”

The Sorcerer chuckled. “All the murky details no doubt come to what you expect. Why come seeking a trade now, when you’ve no guarantee I’ve need of those?”

“You proved your need when you went to take them back,” Spectra returned. “It may not be a dire need, but you’ll benefit if you have a complete set, won’t you? You’ll be stronger. Less likely to be beaten by a pair of slow-witted, quick-tempered brats.”

It was a sign of Danny’s utter fatigue that he didn’t even protest her words.

“I like this town,” Spectra continued. “I want to come back to it.”

“You _like_ it.” Contempt dripped from every word.

“So I don’t want you to destroy it,” Spectra said simply. “There are plenty of other towns for you to raze to the ground. It’s a reasonable request.”

The Sorcerer snarled. “It’s a foolish one. You need people. You need their emotions. You can get your fix anywhere, find them wherever they scatter.”

“I have my favourites.” Spectra’s voice hadn’t wavered. “I certainly won’t benefit from them if you keep them all mindless.” She heaved a sigh before nodding at the power balls. “But, if you don’t need these, then I suppose I’ll just take them with me.”

“They’re of no use to you.”

Spectra’s smile was full of false sweetness. “Oh, they’re of plenty use to me, because if I have them, you do not.” She grabbed Danny by the back of his HAZMAT suit and jerked him up roughly, nearly choking him in the process. He worked his fingers into the space between the collar and his throat. It wasn’t as bad since he was in ghost mode, but _still_ …. “I want this one too. He’s a favourite.”

And now he’d become a bargaining chip? What was Spectra’s game? He wasn’t even sure whose side she was on.

Actually, he was. It would be her own side. He just couldn’t tell who that was going to be worse for, him or the Sorcerer.

The Sorcerer’s other power balls swooped low to circle him, their green glow growing to near blinding proportions. The Sorcerer might not have noticed it, but Danny felt Spectra shift back, just slightly. “You overstep your bounds,” the Sorcerer said in a low, dangerous voice. “I can open a portal to the Land of Shadows and condemn you here and now, Shade. Is that what you want?”

“Why throw away a perfectly good tool?” Spectra asked lightly. “You certainly still have use for me. Some of these humans are aware enough that you cannot simply force your will upon them as you do others, and one wrong step on your part can serve to strengthen their will against you. But I’m very good at finding weak spots and breaking down walls. I could crush your opposition.”

The Sorcerer laughed at her. “I’ll crush them without you. You can go back where you belong.”

“Because you don’t need me any longer?” The words were a haughty taunt, the implication that the Sorcerer was being a fool not even slightly veiled. “Very well, then. I’ll let you believe that if you wish.”

Spectra turned as if to leave—taking him with her, since she still hadn’t let go—and the Sorcerer sent a volley of power her way. She seemed to have been waiting for it because the power balls she held absorbed his strike. 

And then they shot it back at him, quickly enough that he barely had time to dodge.

Danny didn’t see any more because Spectra turned them both intangible and abruptly dropped through the building like a stone. When they reached street level and she finally let him go. Danny rubbed at his throat. “What was _that_ for?” he asked hoarsely. He wasn’t sure which part he meant. Everything since she’d turned up, basically.

Spectra sniffed and examined the two Sorcerer’s orbs she still held in her power. “Well, you _are_ a favourite of mine, and I wasn’t about to let him taint you with his power. No one’s quite the same after that.”

Danny blinked at her. “You mean after being stanked?” He supposed that kind of made sense. Spectra grew stronger off the same emotions the Sorcerer used, since they both preyed on people’s vulnerabilities, and it was quite possible that some remnant of the Sorcerer’s possession remained with a person long after Randy had destanked them.

“That magic-user is more adept at tying people to him than you would believe,” Spectra told him bluntly as she switched her gaze to him. “Any regret, any unpaid debt, any moment of wavering can be seized and used to destroy you. I simply didn’t want to give him the opportunity to do the same to me.”

“What? What’s he got over you?”

“Nothing, now. Consider _that_ payment for the pains you took to defeat Pariah Dark on my behalf.”

Right. She hadn’t been in the group of ghosts who had come to help him in the end. Danny frowned. “Wait, does that mean that if I have any….” He trailed off, seeing Spectra’s smirk grow. He already knew the answer to that one. “Um…so are you going to give me those?” He pointed at the power balls.

Spectra laughed. “And sacrifice my leverage to you, when you were silly enough to just bury them and not even bother to hide your trail? No, I’ll hang onto these. I’ll keep them here, I think—they could well be useful when I come back if you are successful in your little venture—but I’m certainly not going to put them where you’ll think to look for them again.”

“But…but you used them against him.” She’d _reflected_ the Sorcerer’s own power back on him. “We’re gonna need to do that!”

“Then get your own and learn how.” Shadow swirled over the orbs, and they vanished. “How do you ever expect to accomplish anything if you don’t do your homework?”

“But—” Danny broke off as he heard something behind him. He’d thought this building was empty and that they were alone. He turned—

—and saw a giant green spider that had to be Bertrand. Caught in his web was none other than Tucker, hung spread-eagled and with a strip of thick webbing across his mouth as a gag. His wide eyes at least meant he was conscious, if helpless.

Spectra had told Bertrand to go _check in on his friends_. How had he not clued into that before now? Tucker would never have dropped out of communication like that willingly, not without relaying _something_ that was a hint of what had happened.

“You kidnapped Tucker?”

Spectra clicked her tongue at him. She’d already assumed her usual human form again and looked down at him over the top of her glasses. “Insurance,” she said, as if he were being particularly dimwitted. “I’m not the fool you are, Phantom.”

Danny growled and shot an ectoblast at her—which she dodged easily—before turning his attention to freeing Tucker. This was _not okay_ and he certainly wasn’t going to pretend it was. She might’ve helped him out with the Sorcerer, but if she was expecting a favour from him later in return, she could forget it.

Spectra caught his wrist in an iron grip that was painful enough to make him lose his concentration. His second wind seemed to have disappeared just as easily, but for all he knew, that was simply the effect Spectra was having on him. “Do you always break promises so easily?” she asked. “You said you wouldn’t hunt us down.”

“That was _before_ you kidnapped my best friend!”

“And before I decided to step in before you killed him and everyone else whilst under the Sorcerer’s control—or is your memory so bad that you’ve already forgotten that part? Surely you aren’t so foolish as to think he wouldn’t control you again.” Spectra fixed him with a look, and Danny stopped trying to fight his way out of her grip. “He’ll be fine. Bertrand will release him once you’ve handed over the Fenton Xtractor.”

“Why did you really help?” Danny asked, though he stopped digging his heels in and allowed Spectra to drag him outside. “It wasn’t just because of unpaid debts or whatever. You never cared about that before.”

Spectra spared him a glance. “I know what battles I must fight to survive, although you clearly have much learning to do when it comes to that.”

That didn’t explain anything, at least not to Danny, but he didn’t bother trying to press her. He suspected he wouldn’t get a clear answer anyway. If anyone could interpret Spectra’s words, it would probably be Jazz, but Danny was not about to let Spectra anywhere near his sister again, not if he could help it.

Spectra must have known full well where the others were because she found them easily enough, heading straight across the street. Howard met them at the door with the Xtractor, but he clearly had little idea what it would do even if he could figure out how it worked, and Spectra had it out of his grip in seconds. As soon as she did, she vanished with it and without another word.

Danny swallowed and changed back, holding up his hands. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’m me again.”

“You’re welcome,” Howard said. 

“Huh?”

“I’ve got the Stone. You probably snapped out of it when the Sorcerer lost it.” 

“Uh, right.” Danny rubbed the back of his neck, remembering what had snapped him out of it the _last_ time someone had controlled him. “Is…is Sam—?”

“She’s alive.” Randy, still masked, got to his feet and turned to look at Danny. “But you definitely did a number on her. She’s lucky.”

“Well, uh, thanks for getting her out of there.” She wouldn’t have been like this if it weren’t for Danny, and he hated that. But Sam wasn’t one to stand by when she could be doing something to help, even if she knew the dangers. Danny decided to think of something happier. “Tucker’s all right. Bertrand was holding him hostage, in case Spectra needed him as a bargaining chip. And Spectra….” Danny trailed off, glancing at the spot where he’d last seen her.

“And Spectra what?” Howard prompted. He stuck his hand into his chip bag but only came up with crumbs, so he crumpled that and shoved it into his pocket after licking his fingers.

“She had two of the Sorcerer’s power balls and acts like she knows where the rest are. But when he took a shot at her, she, like, used them to absorb it and shoot it back at him. We might be able to turn that on him. I have a feeling she left yours where it is.”

Danny didn’t need to see Randy’s face to know that he was frowning. “Trying to use them, like that? Not a good idea from what I’ve seen. If you try to use them, they’ll use you. Heck, even just _wanting_ them makes you vulnerable. If we try that, it would be a complete disaster.”

So it was all just a setup for another one of Spectra’s manipulations, and Danny would have fallen for it. It figured. But still…. “Do we have a choice? It’ll be a complete disaster if we don’t do anything, too, and we’ve got some ground to cover between here and the school if we need to get the Sorcerer back into the pit.”

Danny barely heard what Randy mumbled—“The tainted spirit poisons the spirit.”—and really wasn’t sure what he meant: the Sorcerer’s orbs, Spectra, or even his tentative conviction of what was probably a bad plan. 

“I vote no,” said Howard. “Y’know, if you’re asking. I remember what happened at Julian’s birthday party even if you don’t.”

“Yeah, but Danny has a point, even if it is a trap.” Randy didn’t say anything more for a few seconds before deciding, “Okay. But if we’re doing this, we’re doing it on my terms. I’ll go get the power ball. You guys get Tucker, get the others to safety and make sure they’re taken care of, and then meet me back here.”


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year (albeit a bit early) to everyone! Thanks to those who have been reading and reviewing.

Maddie saw Jack first, staggering past the Ghost Shield with one arm around Tucker and another around Howard Weinerman, one of the boys Danny and Jazz had befriended.

Then she saw Danny, cradling Sam.

She was relieved to no end that Danny was all right, but one of the kids had gotten hurt, and they’d gotten hurt on her watch. Hers and Jack’s. And Jack had clearly not escaped unscathed, either, and he was no fool in the field and knew enough to never underestimate a ghost.

Maddie pursed her lips as she recalled what Jazz had told her earlier, that they were all safer when Danny was out in the field. Jazz didn’t make hasty assessments. If she’d said that, she had reason to believe it.

“Hey, Mads,” Jack rasped when she came to relieve the others and help her husband to a bed in the sick bay.

“Sh, honey. Just rest. I’ll get the full story out of the kids.” She had no doubt they knew the full story, though whether or not they would tell it could very well be another matter entirely. She felt like everyone knew a secret she did not.

“The Sorcerer was controlling Phantom,” Danny said as he laid Sam on another bed. He looked tired, though he certainly had to be in better shape than his gym marks had led her to believe if he’d managed to carry Sam for any distance after being out in the field. Perhaps he’d been making a better effort to train, thanks to Sam, and she’d been too preoccupied to notice. “Sam helped break that connection, and….”

Maddie was already assessing the girl, frowning. “She seems to be in remarkably good shape for having been in the middle of a fight.”

“Thanks to the Ninja.” That was Howard. “He’s got some healing thing he does.”

Despite all her research, Maddie had never come across an instance of a ghost healing a human that didn’t end up having detrimental effects. “That’s not as good as it appears to be, I’m sure,” she murmured. “The price of the healing—”

“—is paid by the Ninja,” Danny cut in quickly. He glanced at Howard. “Right?”

“Uh.” For a moment, Howard looked dreadfully uncertain, but then he schooled his features, and Maddie realized she’d be a fool to trust a word he said. “Yeah. Always is.”

Maddie sighed and fitted her goggles into place before pulling her hood up. She had no idea if Sam was going to show symptoms of the ecto-disease thanks to the Ninja’s _healing_ , but if she was contagious, they were all already exposed. The best she could do now was examine Sam carefully to determine if they had anything to worry about. 

“Tucker,” she said absently as she gestured with one hand, “fetch some swabs from the box on the far left, would you?”

“Uh, Mom,” Danny said slowly, “remember where we are. Tuck didn’t cross the plastic barrier.”

Oh, she _was_ slipping if she was forgetting herself like that. Tucker had had that particular phobia since childhood. “Then would you—? Thank you.” She accepted the swabs from her son, a small part of her noticing his calmness. He was dealing remarkably well with this situation, far better than she would have expected. 

Jack would say he was taking it like a Fenton.

But she…. This was not the Danny who fled at the sight of a ghost. This was a Danny who looked determined, not distraught, when friend or family was injured. This was the Danny who had led his peers in a rescue, not the Danny who had hidden away during the siege of Amity Park.

 _“You know this isn’t the first time we’ve done this, Mom.”_ That’s what Jazz had said. Maddie had known it to be the truth—she’d seen both her children fight ghosts, albeit rarely—but she’d never….

Danny was experienced. He hadn’t just gotten his feet wet, dabbling in the family business from time to time. His time of trial and error was long over. He knew what he was doing in the field, and he’d earned himself a look that spoke of mistakes and loss and hard lessons learnt. _When did this happen?_ Maddie didn’t know. She’d blinked, and her children had grown up.

“Good news, baby! The scan’s clear. I wasn’t contaminated.” Jack, who was no doubt putting on a brave face for the kids, jumped off his bed and trotted over with the ecto-detector in hand. Howard, certainly, wouldn’t see the slight waver in his step, that his bright grin did not reach his eyes. But if Danny looked closely enough, he would be able to read the exhaustion on his father’s face. In a more sombre voice, Jack asked, “Is Sam stable enough to be tested yet?” 

That was one flaw in the machine they had yet to correct. It required an established baseline to be read for comparison’s sake, assuming a set amount of ecto-contamination and normal vitals if no existing baseline for an individual had been preloaded into the instrument. Until they could incorporate data from more people to create a reliable approximation of the norm, the device was of limited use.

They’d initially developed it for their kids to give them the ability to check themselves over for lingering contamination after each fight—after the ecto-acne outbreak, she’d worried of a repeat and had been kicking herself for not developing it after the student quarantine earlier that year—but after an indignant shouting match with Jazz, Maddie hadn’t even shown it to Danny. There was little point until they worked out some of the bugs it had. Maddie rarely asked, preferring to experiment on herself, but when she did, Jazz would agree to act as a reluctant test subject; Danny would disappear before the proposition could even be made, for all that it was for his own good.

Maddie stared at her watch, finishing up her silent counting of Sam’s pulse before answering Jack’s question. “Surprisingly, yes.” _What had that ghost done?_ “She seems well enough that she could merely be asleep.”

Jack’s brows knit together. “But her clothes….”

Her clothes suggested burning (by a concentrated ghost ray if Maddie had to guess), something certainly not denied by the colour of the skin beneath it. But the skin was pink with the newness of healing, not the angry red or scorched black of a burn.

Maddie did not believe that the Ninja bore all the consequences of this healing. 

She was not entirely convinced that Sam had been the sole recipient of it, either, judging by the looks of his jumpsuit and his overall weariness.

But if Jack was clear of ecto-contamination….

“Maybe she is just asleep,” Maddie murmured. The Ninja was a ghost, but that did not make him a fool. Even for the sake of appearances, he would not sacrifice all his strength to heal a human. Some of the strength needed must come from within the person. It explained Sam’s deep sleep, Jack’s exhaustion. 

“Mads?”

She could not bring herself to believe that a ghost would do this merely as a gesture of good will. They were strangers in his town, and he had his own battles to fight. Perhaps he hoped they would not fight him, too, once his fight with this new ghost was over. That Phantom took to him was unsurprising, but perhaps the Ninja found it promising, if he had gotten any sort of story out of Phantom at all.

They had made tentative alliances before when facing a greater threat than they could handle alone. And when they _had_ captured Phantom before, Jack had released him. Despite their efforts, Phantom remained free.

That he was free to come _here_ was surprising, but that merely meant they did not understand him—or what drove him—half as well as they’d thought.

The Ninja, however…. In all likelihood, the Ninja hoped that with these gestures, they would deign to allow him to remain free. 

“She’ll be all right.” Maddie didn’t even reach for the ecto-detector. She straightened up and turned, saying, “Danny, Sam will….” Maddie’s voice died as she saw only Howard standing there with one of Jack’s emergency lollipops in his mouth.

“Danny had to run,” Howard said, jabbing his thumb vaguely over his shoulder. “But, uh, yeah. She’s gonna be okay?” He nodded, so confident in her answer that she didn’t even need to give it. “Figured. Ninja’s Art of Healing ‘n’ all.” He wandered over to them and pointed at the ecto-detector. “What’s that do?”

Jack happily launched into a spiel of the product, leading Howard over to another bed so they could both sit down while he talked.

Maddie stood frozen over Sam before lifting her head and scanning the room. She couldn’t see Danny, Tucker, _or_ Jazz.

 _“You know this isn’t the first time we’ve done this, Mom.”_ Maddie swallowed. Just how many times _had_ they done this? What else had she and Jack not seen? What had they missed?

And what terrors had their children faced that had them bravely— _foolishly_ —sneaking off to face this one, even well aware of the dangers as they were?

-|-

Randy found the power ball in his basement, its glow making it easy to pick out in the darkness despite the fact that Danny had thrown—phased?—it into a bag and stuck that into a box. And despite the random jerks the power ball gave as it tried to fly towards the Sorcerer, he made it to their appointed meeting place without it getting loose on him. 

Trouble was, the Sorcerer had apparently gotten tired of waiting and had decided to move again. 

“You’ve gotta hurry, guys. He’s coming.” Randy knew he didn’t have to tell any of them who _he_ was. “I’ve got the power ball, and….” He bit his lip, glancing out the storefront window and up at the churning green sky. “You know what? I’ll come to you.” He started running, trying to keep out of the Sorcerer’s line of sight without going too far out of his way. The Fentons were going to know sooner rather than later that their shield thingy wasn’t going to keep out the Sorcerer, but if Randy could cut him off at the pass, then all the better. Less chance of immediate mass panic, at any rate.

At the least the Sorcerer was moving slowly now, enjoying his freedom and calling out taunts to the Ninja to draw him back out. Randy didn’t know where Spectra had gone or if that other ghost Danny insisted was around was with her, but clearly there was no point in hoping for a distraction from them. The thought of doing what Spectra suggested made something twist inside his stomach, though. He was sure it wouldn’t end well.

 _The Ninja who believes in his strength alone is the weakest of all._ Well, he wasn’t relying on his strength alone for this fight. Not when he was up against the Sorcerer.

 _The tainted spirit poisons the spirit._ He’d thought that was referring to Spectra—she was a tainted spirit if he’d ever seen one, and she definitely poisoned people’s spirits—but maybe it meant this, too. The Sorcerer’s power balls _definitely_ tainted people’s spirits—Julian was a prime example of that—and that was why Randy wasn’t going to let anyone else touch it. Danny had handled them before, but never for very long and not where the Sorcerer could see him. This was Randy’s problem, Randy’s fight, and he wasn’t going to use Danny as a sacrificial pawn.

He felt bad enough about doing it earlier. Howard hadn’t helped, and even if Randy had kinda-sort-almost managed to convince him, he hadn’t completely managed to convince himself that he’d done the right thing there. He wouldn’t be able to escape using Danny as a distraction, though, and he’d need all his skills to be a good distraction.

 _The reflection becomes what it is expected to be._ Maybe it had been a warning not to make assumptions. Maybe it was a clue about how to defeat the Sorcerer. Either way, Randy’s current plan was crazy, but it had been built from the skeleton of an equally crazy plan, so that wasn’t a surprise. But it was worth a shot.

Danny and Jazz met him outside McFist Industries. “How’s Sam?”

“Asleep,” answered Danny. He looked grateful. “She’ll be all right.”

“Howard and Tucker?”

“Distracting my parents and hacking into McFist’s surveillance cameras to make sure the footage gets wiped. You ready to do this?”

Randy nodded, glanced at the building, then ducked between some cars and came out as himself instead of the Ninja. He didn’t have to worry about cameras if Tucker was taking care of it, but he wanted to be sure no stray eyes saw him. Danny was frowning when Randy emerged, though. 

Randy decided to explain before he asked. “I’ve gotta go in as myself. You should….” He lowered his voice and shoved the mask into Danny’s hands. It was a commitment he hated to make, but he wasn’t sure he had a choice. He needed to do this, just in case Danny was right about the whole reflecting thing being what _he_ thought it meant. Besides, if they _did_ get through this alive and successfully, he didn’t want the Sorcerer still thinking he was the Ninja. “You need to be the Ninja again.”

Danny looked uneasy. “The Sorcerer—”

“Can’t control you if he doesn’t have the Stone.” That was a lie, perhaps the most believable one he’d ever told, but Danny didn’t need to know that. Not yet. Besides, if the Sorcerer was going to start controlling people with his power balls again, he’d start with the guy in possession of a power ball: Randy.

Randy handed the Nomicon to Jazz. “Give this to Howard, but make sure you keep it out of McFist’s sight. He knows what it looks like. Actually, just keep it out of sight, period.”

Danny glanced at it; Randy had slipped the math textbook cover over it again. “Or, because it’s Jazz, she could swap out that with a dust jacket from one of her psych texts. No one who knows her is gonna question that.”

“I’ll keep it safe and make sure he gets it when no one’s listening in,” Jazz promised, taking the book and hugging it to her chest, effectively blocking most of the cover from view. 

“If….” How was he supposed to say this? “If something happens—”

“We won’t let anything happen,” Danny said firmly, a dangerous glint in his eye.

Randy swallowed. “I know, but if it does. If something _does_ happen to me, make sure Howard gets the mask, too. He’ll hold on to everything until the guy can pick them up, and he can mind wipe himself, too, to keep the next Ninja safe. I’m pretty sure the Nomicon would be happy to let him do that.”

“Mind wipe?” Jazz repeated.

Randy nodded. “Every Ninja does it, once he’s done being the Ninja. It protects them, and the new Ninja. Nobody’s supposed to know about him. You guys’ll probably have it done to you, too, once this is over.”

Danny frowned at his sister. “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing, really.” Even Randy didn’t believe that, but Jazz continued, “It just sounds a little…extreme.”

Danny shrugged. “I can see that kind of thing having its uses.” 

“What? But that’s cra—” Jazz broke off, and her eyes narrowed. “Danny, what haven’t you told me?”

“Now’s really not the time for catching up, Jazz.”

Jazz scowled. “You _know_ you can talk to me.”

“Let’s just say I know the value of hitting a reset button.”

“Danny!”

“Can you guys squabble later? In case you’ve forgotten, the world’s kinda descending into chaos here.”

The Fenton kids mumbled an apology in unison. Danny was the one who continued, asking, “You ready for this?”

“No. Let’s go.” Randy turned, and he heard Danny follow him.

“Be careful, you guys,” Jazz said.

Randy swallowed, and Danny stopped long enough to tell Jazz what Randy was thinking: “We’re way beyond that now, Jazz.”

-|-

McFist arrived and almost immediately got swarmed by grateful yet concerned townspeople. He made it as far as the Fentons before Viceroy decided he wouldn’t be making it to this end of the room anytime soon. Viceroy turned his gaze back to young Tucker Foley. He watched him for a while longer before he strode casually over to stand in front of him. The boy was tucked into a corner, half hidden behind a stack of now-empty boxes. His eyes never strayed from his PDA.

“You didn’t really think we wouldn’t notice, did you?”

Tucker didn’t look up. “I wouldn’t admire you if I didn’t think you would.”

“Really.” Viceroy couldn’t bring himself to believe it. “It rather looks to me like your earlier admiration was an act.” He should have known being recognized for his work was too good to be true. Sure, some of Tucker’s appreciation wasn’t put upon—he’d said as much to McFist earlier and stood by that—but his exuberance rivalled McFist’s whenever Viceroy built a Robo-Hound (or some sort of Robo-Dog, each new version an improvement upon the last) McFist could name Lance.

“What?” Tucker finally tore his eyes off the screen in front of him. “Are you kidding? No! This place is great!”

Viceroy raised an eyebrow.

“Just…things I had to do….” Tucker looked sheepish. “But it was a good tour.”

“Kid, you’re good, but you’ve got to know what this did to your chances of ever working here.” 

Viceroy didn’t even need to voice the threat of how far their influence could reach with other companies. Tucker’s suddenly sombre face showed that he knew it all too well. “Yeah,” he agreed quietly, “maybe. I’m only so much use to you patching holes, right? But I had to do it.”

Viceroy dropped to a crouch and leaned closer to him. “Why?” That’s what they’d never figured out, for all that they now knew the kids were working with the Ninja as they worked with Phantom back in Amity Park and that they were all fighting the Sorcerer. “What—who—put you onto this?”

Tucker adjusted his glasses nervously. “Look,” he said slowly, “this isn’t the first time I’ve had to do this kind of thing. And I can still admire you for the work you do, even if I don’t always agree with what you use it for. But if I hadn’t found out what I did, Phantom might not be helping the Ninja out there, and you’ve gotta know enough about the Sorcerer to know he’s better off sealed away from us than he is out here, even if you _have_ been trying to free him.”

Viceroy rolled his eyes and snatched the kid’s PDA away from him, ignoring Tucker’s protests. He looked at the coding on the screen for a moment before looking back at Tucker. “Our security cameras?”

“What’s the point of trying to stop the Sorcerer if you figure out who the Ninja is and destroy him just so the Sorcerer can get free again?”

The kid had a point, one Viceroy wished he’d never thought of, since screening through the feed from the cameras was one thing he did regularly in hopes that the Ninja made a mistake. But now was not an ideal time by any stretch of the imagination. With the Fentons occupying McFist’s business hours and Marci wanting him home while they hosted the Mansons, he couldn’t activate any of the escape plans he had in place. Extracting Bash would still be easy enough, but Marci thought this whole business with the Ninja and the Sorcerer less important than her own and would refuse to flee while they had company.

And McFist never won an argument against his wife.

Viceroy fiddled with the kid’s coding for a few seconds, wanting to plant a tracer that (should) relay what Tucker was trying to his McFist Pad and kill the cameras at the same time. Tucker would no doubt still be suspicious and look for signs of tampering, but Viceroy had been doing this years before the kid had been born, years before computers were this small. And if he could make Tucker even give him a sort of grudging trust by taking out the cameras, well, he was certain he could use it later. In the future, if not now. Technogeeks were invaluable, and Viceroy saw something of himself in the kid. He might not be evil genius material, but he still had skill.

“What’d you do?” Tucker asked suspiciously, eyes flying over the coding on the screen as if he didn’t expect an honest answer.

“Took out the cameras,” Viceroy said. “I’d rather the Sorcerer got out on our terms.”

“So he’s, what, indebted to you? What makes you even think he’d keep his word?”

“McFist is a gambling man,” Viceroy said bluntly. “I’m less of one. I’d rather hedge my bets or avoid a potential undesirable outcome altogether.” Doomsday machine aside, that is. He did enjoy glory, scarce though it was considering his business.

“So you try to save your own skin,” Tucker surmised, giving him an even look. “Don’t get me wrong; I look out for myself, too. But sometimes I’ve gotta take a risk for my friends.”

That was the answer to Viceroy’s earlier question: Tucker’s _friends_. Jack and Maddie Fenton were, no doubt, completely oblivious. Looking at what the Robo-Apes had managed to garner on their kids didn’t tell him anything Viceroy hadn’t suspected: that the kids had worked with Phantom before and had decided to help the Ninja now. He still didn’t know everything, didn’t know the real reason _why_ or know how they’d found out their information in the first place, didn’t know if Phantom had had contact with the Ninja before. But he’d take what he could get.

“Well, if your interests overlap with mine, there’s no reason for us not to work together.”

Tucker’s look was sceptical, and for good reason. “You’re offering to help,” he said flatly.

Viceroy just looked at him.

“Help _the Ninja_ ,” Tucker continued. “The guy you’ve been trying to destroy.”

“He’s saved me before. I might as well return the favour.”

“Uh huh.” Tucker still didn’t look like he entirely believed him. But it didn’t matter if he believed Viceroy now or not, so long as he believed him later in case Viceroy ever needed to cash in a favour. “Well, I’ll let you know if I need any more of your help. Thanks.”

Viceroy decided to leave well enough alone for now. He’d planted the seed; that’s all he needed to do right now. McFist had come for Bash, but if Marci wouldn’t leave, they needed to stop the Sorcerer from making his move now. And if they could do it through some easily led teenagers and still have a semblance of ignorance to show the Sorcerer, he’d take it. The Sorcerer would, no doubt, see right through them—but if he was back in the pit, Viceroy could worry about _that_ later.

He was used to coming up with plans on short notice. If he actually had some decent time to think, he could swallow his fear of the Sorcerer long enough to come up with a plan that wouldn’t be easily dismantled. Viceroy was nothing if not confident in his abilities.

-|-

Randy had expected more protests from Danny on the plan once Jazz was gone, but there were none. All he got was a level, knowing look that told Randy that, as much as he could, Danny _understood_. It didn’t give Randy a level of confidence, exactly, or even reassurance that this wasn’t a completely stupid, reckless idea—because it was, it really, really was—but it was support for his completely stupid, reckless idea, and crazily enough, that’s what Randy needed right now.

Danny had long since disappeared—getting into position, he called it—so it felt like Randy was on his own, even if he knew he wasn’t.

But he still felt _really_ exposed, standing in the middle of the street and facing down the Sorcerer (who was riding down the street on Julian as if he had been transformed into something like a horse instead of a spider) while wearing his McHoodie instead of the Ninja Suit. 

Randy swallowed, his fingers clenching the Sorcerer’s power ball even tighter as it fought to escape his grip. He had to do this.

The Sorcerer reined Julian to a halt a mere five feet shy of Randy, and he couldn’t stop himself from flinching. Fighting the urge to run had been bad enough. This would be a whole lot different if he had actual weapons on him as opposed to something that was more likely to blow up in his face than anything else.

The Sorcerer surveyed him for a long moment. “You look familiar,” he drawled. “Randall Cunningham. The Ninja.”

“Randy,” Randy corrected. His voice was a little raspier than he would’ve liked it to be, so he swallowed before continuing, “And all I’m trying to do is _help_ the Ninja.” That was Danny’s cue to smoke bomb in. They’d agreed to that much, that he’d come in either when Randy mentioned the Ninja or the Sorcerer attacked, whichever happened first.

The Sorcerer smirked. “That’s not what I hear.” He raised a hand, green stank swirling above it.

Randy swallowed again and waited.

Nothing happened.

“It doesn’t make any difference, of course. You’re just one more ally of the Ninja’s that I can crush.” 

“He’ll stop you,” Randy whispered defiantly. He hadn’t meant to whisper it, really, but his voice didn’t seem to want to speak with nearly as much volume as he wanted it to. 

It was easier facing the Sorcerer when he was hiding behind the mask of the Ninja.

“Really.” The Sorcerer sounded downright amused, something which made Randy’s skin crawl. “I’m afraid I’ll have to disillusion you.” 

Danny still didn’t show. 

Unfortunately, the Sorcerer didn’t want to wait. The stank shot towards Randy, quick as a viper’s strike, and green filled his vision.


	30. Chapter 30

Randy hit the pavement hard. The Sorcerer’s power ball flew out of his hands, bouncing on the pavement before flying up to join the others—

—only to be caught by Danny. Well, Phantom.

“What the cheese, Phantom? What kind of shoob move was that?” Randy yelled, not entirely caring that the Sorcerer could hear him because there was no way they were going to get the jump on him again anyway. Plus, he didn’t need to look at his McHoodie to know that it had taken some serious damage. Danny’s brilliant plan had been to knock him out of the way of the stank with an ectoblast and dispersing the rest of the stank instead of actually doing what they’d agreed to, what _he himself_ had suggested.

“You were right,” Danny said. “Doing something Spectra wants us to is just asking for trouble.”

It would’ve been _really_ nice if Danny had let him know he wanted to back out of this _before_ they’d started.

“Get out of here, Cunningham,” Danny said. “The Ninja and I can handle this.”

The Ninja—?

“Smoke bomb!” 

Oh. Right. That clone thing he could do. 

But still. This move was _beyond_ stupid. Danny _knew_ he couldn’t take on the Sorcerer by himself. He might not have the Tengu Stone, but that didn’t mean he was exactly weakened because of that. 

“Get him out of here, Ninja,” Danny said with a nod at Randy when he realized Randy wasn’t about to move. The Sorcerer’s power ball he’d held had disappeared, hopefully tucked away instead of up circling with the rest of them.

Randy allowed himself to be dragged off, but _only_ because Danny had obviously come up with his own plan and fighting it now wouldn’t help either of them. “What the cheese were you thinking?” Randy hissed when he hoped they were out of earshot.

Danny ripped the mask off and handed it to him. “I had to deal with the rat again. Finally froze him up but it probably won’t last once the fighting begins.” Randy’s eyes narrowed—Danny had had to duplicate himself, and that would surely have only taken one of him—and Danny added, “Besides, going in as yourself? Fine for clearing your name, but suicide otherwise. I can use my powers when I’m not in ghost mode, but you can’t even draw a weapon to defend yourself. Now put it on.”

“I thought the point was that I had the power ball to defend myself,” Randy pointed out. “The Sorcerer was ready to stank me. It would’ve worked! And it was _your_ plan.”

“And you think I was thinking clearly?”

“Obviously not,” Randy shot back. He was less than impressed with Danny right now, but he put on the mask; they _needed_ the Ninja, and Danny’s improvisation had at least guaranteed that the real Ninja could show up before the Sorcerer figured out something was off. “Please tell me you’re not just trying to be the hero and planning to do this yourself? I’m the one who’s fought the Sorcerer before, not you.”

Danny looked sheepish, and Randy knew he’d called it. “Come on! I at least know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, but you can be killed a lot easier than me,” Danny countered, “and I don’t want any of my friends to die if I can do something about it.” Danny looked away after this admission, staring at his feet, and Randy figured this had been eating away at him for a while. Him being possessed and nearly killing his dad and his friend wouldn’t have helped matters.

“This isn’t my first day as the Ninja, you know.”

“It’s not that I doubt your skills,” Danny said quietly, still not meeting his eyes. “It’s just…. We’re not really sure how these power ball things work, what exactly they are. Spectra managed to shoot something back at the Sorcerer, but she had time to study the thing and probably knows those orbs better than you do and definitely better than I do. And for all we know, because of that connection to the Ghost Zone—”

“Land of Shadows.”

“Right. But because of that connection, it might’ve reacted differently because she’s a ghost. Because it sensed ectoplasm. If you’re trying to recreate an experiment, you wanna keep the variables the same—as many as you can. My parents are scientists. Trust me, I know that much.”

“So you’re just trying to be the hero?” Randy rolled his eyes in spite of himself. It was almost— _almost_ —O’ThunderPunch all over again. “Fine. But _only_ because I’m assuming you’ve been in this ghost zone place often enough to find your way out of the Land of Shadows if you end up there.”

For a moment, Danny looked grateful. 

And then he disappeared.

The clone thing was useful when it came to the extra bodies. It was probably more useful when duplicates meant more confusion, trying to figure out who the original one was. But if it meant dividing strength, relying on it was a stupid move with the Sorcerer. They needed to bring everything they had. 

And if Danny was worried—rightfully, Randy had to admit—that some lines would be crossed, that someone trying to help them might end up dead, then their best backup was something that couldn’t be hurt.

And the Sorcerer was on the ground now. Most of the place was paved and he wouldn’t be thanked if he wrecked more property than he had to, but the pets only park wasn’t far from here. Randy cracked his knuckles. It was time to call out the Sandjas.

-|-

“How’s Sam doing?”

Despite herself, Maddie jumped; she hadn’t noticed Jazz come up on them. She was clutching a math book like it was one of her treasured psychology texts, but her focus was on the girl still sleeping on the bed.

“She’ll be all right,” Maddie answered. “We can’t do anything for her now besides let her rest.”

Jazz nodded as if she’d anticipated that answer. “I’m glad she’ll recover.” She shifted the textbook in her arms and pulled out one of her shirts that it had hidden—a shirt taken from the spare set of clothes they all kept in the Assault Vehicle, if Maddie were to guess. She put it down at Sam’s feet. “She’ll probably want to change when she wakes.” Jazz’s gaze travelled over Maddie’s shoulder. “How’s Dad?”

“It takes more than that to put your father down,” Maddie reminded her wryly.

Jazz watched Jack as he babbled on to Howard. “Yeah,” she agreed. “That’s an understatement. I’ll go rescue Howard. I need to talk to him about tutoring anyway.” She adjusted her grip on the textbook, giving Maddie a better glimpse of its title. “I got this off one of the kids. I want to see if Howard thinks it might be a viable distraction from everything. I’m willing to take the keeners and the ridicule I might get from everyone else.”

Maddie smiled as Jazz went off to extract Howard from his conversation, but her heart wasn’t in it. A surreptitious glance around the room confirmed that neither Danny nor Tucker was in sight. Howard’s friend, Randy, was missing as well, but he hadn’t come in with the others that she’d seen. If he was still out there, perhaps the others had gone back for him.

She hadn’t thought Danny would have left Sam, but if Randy was in trouble, her son’s actions made sense. He held tightly to his friends, even those he hadn’t had very long. And Jack was clearly right, given Danny’s actions. He was a Fenton through and through. Fierce protection of family and friends went with the name as much as any enthusiasm for ghost hunting.

Maddie touched the Fenton Phone on her ear, half expecting to hear Danny’s voice any moment now. With Jack back and his own Fenton Phone missing—stolen or destroyed, she wasn’t sure—she couldn’t pretend that it was perfectly all right to leave her kids to their own devices to prove that she trusted them. Enough was enough. She’d seen Danny and knew he had been fine—surprising, even if it shouldn’t be, from what Jazz had said—but now that he was gone again….

Now that he was gone again, she’d decided to put her Fenton Phone back on, and all she’d caught was the tail end of a message. Enough to know that Danny had probably disappeared for a rendezvous—with this Ninja, perhaps, or with Randy, for the voice certainly hadn’t been Phantom’s or her son’s. 

Maddie didn’t like this. This entire situation had her on edge, and she was more fidgety than calm like she needed to be to face this ghost attack. Jack didn’t want her going out into the field. He’d insisted she stay here earlier, and she had. After seeing what happened to him, she wasn’t sure she would be able to do much good out there, but Danny….

What had ever caused Jazz to believe that they were safer here if Danny was fighting? 

As Jazz was pushing past her with Howard in tow, Maddie put a hand on her daughter’s arm. “I need to talk to you, honey.”

Jazz glanced at Howard. “Can it wait a bit, Mom? I’m kinda busy right now.”

“I’m afraid not, sweetie.” She couldn’t afford to wait any longer. She wasn’t sure if she should have waited this long.

Jazz frowned but pushed the math book into Howard’s hands. “See if you can find Tucker. He’s better at math than you’d think, and you might have to start without me.”

“Uh, right.” Howard looked uncertain but still disappeared into the crowd readily enough. Maddie hadn’t realized until now how much his shorter height gave him the advantage when it came to that.

Or perhaps she really was seeing connections and plots where there was nothing but coincidences and good intentions.

“What do you want, Mom?”

Maddie glanced at Jack. He was already prepping the area for their next patient, if they had one, and no doubt he’d disappear to change into a new jumpsuit when he was finished with that. She kept her voice low in case he wasn’t as preoccupied as he appeared. “I need to talk to you about your brother.”

Jazz rolled her eyes. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Jazz, this isn’t a game, and you can’t afford to treat it as such.”

“I’m not. Do you think I don’t know people’s lives are depending on us to trap the Sorcerer? I can see this situation more clearly than you can!”

Maddie’s eyes shot up. “On _us_?” she repeated.

“Phantom and the Ninja, then,” Jazz amended, “and you guys for keeping everyone who’s in here safe, for making sure no one’s panicking and for taking precautions so that this doesn’t just turn into a slaughterhouse.”

They couldn’t have this conversation here. The noise of the crowd worked to their advantage, but they were still too exposed, stray words too liable to be overheard and misinterpreted. “Come with me,” Maddie said, offering her hand. “Let’s go get some coffee.” The break room should be empty; Viceroy had made sure the exits to the building’s interior had been essentially sealed off for security purposes, but he’d given her and Jack temporary passcodes.

Jazz heaved a sigh but didn’t protest, allowing Maddie to drag her off. When they were alone, the noise of the other room a dull droning and no Robo-Apes in sight, Maddie turned to face her daughter again. “Your brother, Jazz,” she prompted.

“Danny’s fine. He’s smart enough not to make the same mistake twice in the same fight. Whatever happened to Sam won’t happen to him.”

“Jazz—”

“It’s not a matter of underestimating ghosts, Mom. It’s matter of properly assessing your opponents’ skills. Danny’s a much better fighter than I am.”

Maddie frowned. “Sweetie, you’ve at least agreed to let me teach you some of what I know. Danny never shows up for our sessions.”

“He should. I’m not going to pretend he shouldn’t, and maybe if I keep nattering at him, he will. But once he does, Mom, he knows you’ll see what skills he has already developed on his own. His fighting style might be sloppy at times, but he still gets the job done, even if his methods can be unconventional. But what he does and how he does it…. Mom, he’s not going to be happy I told you this much, but I think he’s been fighting ghosts longer than I’ve really believed in them. All those weapons that keep going missing on you guys? A lot of that’s from Danny, and Sam and Tucker. They’re all more experienced than I am, and you were happy to throw me out into the field.”

Maddie sighed. “Jazz, that was before the situation escalated. You know that.”

“I know it’s gotten worse. But Danny’s faced worse, Mom. That’s my point. This is bad, but he’s not entirely out of his depth—certainly not like you think he is—and he’s fighting with people who are good at what they do.”

“With ghosts, you mean? Jazz, I know you insist that Phantom is helping—”

“He _is_ , and he _does_ , and that’s not going to change just because he’s a ghost. No, he’s not perfect. Yes, he’s made mistakes. I’m pretty sure if I talked to the Ninja, I’d find out he’s made mistakes, too. You were happy to let those two fight at the school!”

“Honey, it’s a matter of picking our battles.” Maddie crossed her arms and looked at her daughter, knowing her expression would be easy to read even if her goggles weren’t still atop her head. “You know that.”

“You’re using them to fight because they’re fighting on your side or at the very least fighting a common enemy. It’ll be a courtesy for you to not hunt them down immediately after this, Mom, and I’ll try to stop you if you and Dad try it. Have you even talked to any of the kids out there? The Ninja saves them. They _know_ he’s saved them. If McFist tried to openly hunt down the Ninja, he’d have a revolt on his hands or at the very least a boycott of his company. Because the Ninja is a hero, just like Phantom!”

“They’re ghosts, Jazz.” How many times were they going to have this discussion?

Jazz glared at her. She didn’t suggest, as she had in the past, that if they were ghosts, perhaps their obsession was to protect people from danger. Maddie had already walked her through how dangerous it would be for everyone once the ghost in question misconstrued that danger and saw innocents as the enemy. Instead, Jazz said, very quietly, “Being ghosts doesn’t mean they don’t have the capacity to do good. Even the Red Huntress realizes that, and she hates Phantom more than you do. But she’s called a truce with him before and I don’t doubt she’d do it again.”

“This has nothing to do with the Red Huntress, honey, and it has everything to do with Danny. You can stop trying to distract me from the matter at hand. Please, just call back your brother. He won’t listen to me, but he’ll listen to you.” Maddie didn’t need to try calling him to know that. If Danny was half as good as Jazz believed and she’d seen only a little more than an ounce of that skill, he wouldn’t trust her judgement on what was too much for him to handle. He would trust Jazz’s.

“No.”

“Jasmine—”

“I said, _no_. This test might be tougher than you’d anticipated it being, but we’re not finished yet. Spare me the lecture right now, Mom. We don’t have time for it.” She turned to leave.

Maddie pursed her lips. _We’re not finished yet._ She might not know what exactly Jazz was doing, but Maddie knew she was doing something. Worse, she knew _Danny_ was doing something, something arguably a lot more dangerous than whatever Jazz was planning for herself—odd, considering how much effort Jazz put into protecting Danny. That Jazz was willing to defend something that put her little brother in danger….

“And yet there’s time enough to leave Danny out there to die?” Maddie’s voice was quiet, colder than she’d anticipated but enough to make Jazz stop in her tracks. “You’re fooling yourself if you don’t think that’s a very real possibility, Jazz, and one that grows more likely the longer Danny is out there.”

Jazz took a shuddering breath. “I know.” She turned slowly to look Maddie in the eye. “Danny knows the risks as well as I do. He’s willing to take them, and I’m not trying to stop him. That should tell you something.” 

-|-

Howard was not sure why Jazz had given him the Nomicon when they were standing in McFist Industries. Randy at least kept it hidden whenever he brought it here. Sure, there was a cover on it, but still. McFist had cameras, even if Tucker was working on taking them out, and there were people everywhere. And from the way Jazz had been talking, it kinda sounded like she wanted to open the Nomicon—and Howard wasn’t even sure they _could_. Yeah, _sometimes_ the Nomicon would open for someone besides the Ninja, but that was _beyond_ rare.

He did find Tucker, though, in what could almost pass for a secluded corner, and when he spotted Viceroy, he shifted the book in his arms to keep it farther away from the man’s line of sight. The fact that he was even carrying a book was no doubt suspicious in itself. He normally just did not roll that way, not if he could get away with it. 

“Hey, Tucker,” Howard said when he was close enough to get the boy’s attention but not quite out of earshot of anyone who might be trying to listen to their conversation above the murmur of others. “Jazz says you’re good at math.”

“She what?” Tucker looked up from his PDA, blinking. “Why’d she— Oh.” His eyes had caught the words on the book’s cover. “Yeah, _that_ kind of math, sure. You need me to go over something?”

Howard shrugged as he came closer. “I really don’t care.” Any answer that was even _slightly_ positive would be a huge flag for anyone who had ever seen his grades—and he didn’t put it past Viceroy to check if he got suspicious about something. 

Tucker seemed to have figured that out. “Still, wouldn’t hurt.” He shifted aside and Howard squeezed past him, and then Tucker turned his back on the opening. Once Jazz joined them, she’d effectively block anyone from seeing anything. Howard had glanced around and already realized that Tucker had chosen this corner in part because the only cameras that would catch it would be blocked by either his back or the stack of boxes. “So that’s the NinjaNomicon?” Tucker whispered.

Howard kept his voice as quiet. “Yeah, but it’s not gonna do us much good. We probably can’t even open the thing.” 

“Won’t hurt to try. Is Jazz coming?”

Howard glanced up, searching the crowd for Jazz’s bright red hair. “She’s headed this way now.” 

“Has she got a plan?”

“If she does, she didn’t share.”

Tucker hummed in reply but didn’t twist around in his seat to see where Jazz was, which would’ve been Howard’s temptation. Instead, he leaned forward. “But you know how this thing works, right?” He was pointing to the Nomicon.

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, I probably know almost as much as Randy does. I’ve been in the thing and met First Ninja and Plop Plop and everything. But most of the time, the Nomicon and I agree to disagree. It likes wonking up our super bruce plans.”

Tucker frowned. “This thing is sentient?”

“I…guess?” Howard wasn’t entirely sure how it worked, exactly, but since Jazz slipped in beside Tucker, he didn’t have to try to figure out how to really explain it. “Why’d you bring this here?” he asked instead.

“Randy told me to pass it on to you.” Jazz said it like that explained everything. It didn’t, but it did tell Howard that Randy was way less certain that this would go his way than he normally was. That was definitely not comforting because Randy was usually sure he had things in hand even when he totally didn’t. “Listen, he mentioned having to mind wipe himself. I’m assuming you know about that?”

Despite himself, Howard chuckled. “Yeah, he totally wonked that up once and forgot he was the Ninja. Heck, he forgot he was Randy. He nearly got beaten to a pulp by Bash before I realized he wasn’t trying to wonk my cheese. But there’s some ultimate lesson thing that does a complete mind wipe on you. Well, not that complete when you actually do what you’re supposed to, I think. Just gets rid of all memory of you being the Ninja. I think the Nomicon went overboard on purpose. It does stuff like that.”

“Right.” Jazz was frowning; Howard wondered if she’d understood half of what he’d said. “And people besides the Ninja, can they talk to the Nomicon?”

“Huh? Why would you want to talk to it?”

“Because I want to try to figure something out and that would make my job considerably easier.”

Howard shrugged. “If you can open it, then probably, but you’re gonna collapse on your face if you manage it.”

Tucker raised his eyebrows. “It’s sentient _and_ it sucks your mind inside of it?” Howard didn’t miss the sideways glance at Jazz. “You think this thing is safe?”

Jazz looked pointedly at Howard. “You ever hear any stories of any kids going into comas for no apparent reason or anything like that?”

Howard blinked. “No?”

“Then it’s not likely to eat my mind. It’s more likely just to not open, but if it is at all like I think it is, it’ll know to open because we need it to open to help the Ninja, which is its purpose.” Jazz leaned forward so that her head was resting on her arms. “Howard, I’ll need you with me. Tucker, can you watch our backs?”

“Yeah,” Tucker said, edging away. “I don’t mind staying somewhere where my tech is actually gonna be useful. You wouldn’t have any better luck if I went in with you, anyway.”

Howard stared at Jazz for a moment. “You know this thing’s not even gonna open, right?”

“Ninja knowledge,” Jazz said, hardly lifting her head to speak, “contained in an interface of a book that, if not outright sentient like you and Tucker clearly suspect, at least contains enough magic—or enough of the first Ninja’s spirit—that it seems to know what the current Ninja needs when he needs it, right? And the Ninja needs help. _Our_ help. It’ll open.”

Howard rolled his eyes but figured he might as well humour Jazz. “You heard her, Nomicon. I’ve gotta save Cunningham’s cheese, _again_.” He didn’t actually know if talking to the Nomicon beforehand helped any. Randy did half the time, though, or at least he did it a lot when he was the one who wanted to talk to the Nomicon and not the other way around.

Howard propped the book up on his spine and grabbed a cover with each hand, intending to pull as hard as he could. He didn’t expect it to give, though. He knew about S. Ward Smith, and there was still that guy who had dropped off the Ninja’s stuff at Randy’s in the first place. From Randy’s vague description of the guy, Howard was pretty sure he’d seen him hanging around somewhere. He couldn’t remember when or where, but it didn’t matter if Randy was right and that guy was still keeping an eye on him. 

But if he was—and if the sword smith was, as much as someone who was blind could keep an eye on someone else—and if the Ninja was in serious trouble, then help was probably gonna come from their corner, not Howard’s. Granted, the sword smith didn’t tend to get involved unless Randy went to him for help, and if anyone was gonna step up to the plate without being asked, they would’ve done it _before_ the honkin’ Sorcerer got free. But still. They were way more qualified to give help than he was, and he figured—because he knew how things worked—that he was more qualified to help than Jazz or Tucker. None of that was really promising for Randy.

This wasn’t exactly a life lesson the Ninja needed to learn, and Howard wasn’t entirely convinced he or Jazz or Tucker would be able to provide anything useful besides bodies to be possessed by First Ninja’s spirit or something like that, which was partly why he hadn’t suggested it to Randy earlier.

Also, he’d been hungry, and who was he to ignore his stomach?

But girls were annoyingly stubborn, and Howard had a sister. He knew Jazz wasn’t just going to let this go.

So he pulled.

And then he fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More of the fight in the next chapter, I promise. I just need to cover what’s going on at McFist Industries before everyone’s out of time. Also, apologies to anyone who was hoping Randy was going to be stanked, but I’m running with the hypothesis that the fact that he’s trying to stand up to the Sorcerer however scared he is, trying to do the right thing, means his will is strong enough to resist being stanked—which might not be a thing in the show but which is in this fic. Thanks to everyone who’s been reading and reviewing!


	31. Chapter 31

As Jazz climbed back to her feet in this strange facsimile of the real world, she regretted not switching places with Tucker. She felt like she’d fallen into a video game or into an artist’s sketchbook. At the edges of her vision, the world _blurred_ , solidifying even as she turned her head for a second look. 

She stood in a wide open room built with obvious Asian influence in its design. There were multiple alcoves but no doors—yet even as Jazz blinked, doors appeared. After making the mistake of allowing her eyes to drift upward once and catching a glimpse of the quick, constant shifts in design above, she tried to keep them firmly on the first level. It was infinitely easier to focus on Howard. The room was empty but for them and, with the way the walls wavered, he seemed to be the only other real thing around.

The floorboards shifted under Jazz’s feet and she shut her eyes, trying to ignore the sensation of the world altering itself around her. 

She needed to focus. At the least, she needed a distraction. Opening her eyes, Jazz asked, “Is this a training room?” Even as she said it, a ninja flipped off one of the balconies to her right, being drawn into existence mid-move. It landed with a quarterstaff that had only barely finished being illustrated in time to parry a blow from a sword wielded by an opposing ninja, whose sword arm had been moving to attack even before the rest of its body had been sketched out. The ninja with the quarterstaff twisted its weapon away from the sword and made a swipe at its opponent’s head, forcing the other ninja to leap back and settle into a new stance, one arm raised defensively but feet still wide apart as it leaned forward and held its sword far out to its right, ready to strike.

“Looks like it.” Jazz blinked and turned away from the fight at the sound of Howard’s voice. It didn’t seem like any of this bothered him in the slightest. “We’re in, so you might as well say whatever you need to say.”

Jazz glanced around uneasily. More ninjas were trading blows all around them, and one in the corner going up against a dragon with scales the colour of blood. The closed quarters didn’t seem to hinder it much; it was agile and lightning quick, its lithe, snake-like body writhing to avoid the ninja’s sword and shuriken. Fireballs and claws easily the size of the letter opener on her desk back home didn’t appear to be enough to deter the ninja, who danced to avoid each attack. The dragon’s fire and smoke were nothing more to Jazz than sweeps of colour and swirls of ink, but she flinched away with a squeak as a stray fireball streaked past her left ear. A ninja on the opposite side of the room paused just long enough in its own fight to douse the flames with what looked like a giant water fist.

Jazz edged marginally closer to Howard and kept her voice low; there was no point in drawing attention to herself sooner than necessary. “Will it…hear us?”

Abruptly, all the fighting in the room stopped, and every ninja turned to face her.

“I’m gonna go with ‘yes’,” Howard said.

Jazz swallowed, thinking this could be more difficult than she’d originally anticipated. “The Sorcerer is free,” she began, projecting her voice so it would carry across the room—which now seemed to be easily twice the size it had been when she’d first looked around. “I’m sure Randy’s told you as much. He’s working primarily with my brother to try to stop him, but a lot of damage has been done. I think the rest of us would be most useful to him by trying to contain that damage.”

Howard stared at her. “You know practically half the town’s destroyed, right? I mean, lots of that damage may not be bad, but it’s still there. And the school got blasted more after you left.”

Jazz frowned at him before looking back at the ninjas. As with Randy when he wore his suit, she could see no more than their eyes—but unlike with Randy, she could not interpret what she saw there. “The Sorcerer’s feeding off the chaos he’s generating—”

“Uh, they _know_ that. They’re the only reason _we_ know that.”

Jazz rolled her eyes but persevered. “—and unless we can contain the memory of what he’s done, he’s liable to break free as soon as Randy and Danny trap him.” She had to have faith that they could. “But Randy….” She stopped to lick her lips; this was the tricky part, the part she wasn’t sure would work. The part she wasn’t sure she _wanted_ to work. “Randy said you have the power to erase memories, or at least shape other memories around contained memories so that they never come to light. We need to change what’s happened here today, if we can.”

Howard gaped at her. “You’re kidding, right?”

“If you give us some way to access your power, one of our friends, Tucker, can surely build an interface to spread it to affect everyone at once. But it needs to be selective, wiping their memory of the Sorcerer or at least suppressing it so that they don’t realize how bad things have gotten.”

Howard snorted. “If you’re going back to that whole ‘making a movie’ idea, you’re better off forgetting it. We’d never pull that off. You don’t need to ask the Nomicon that part.”

“I know, I just….” Jazz shook her head. “It’d be nice to knock everyone out, but think of the amount of destruction that’s out there, how many people are packed into McFist’s warehouse. I’m trying to figure out how we can deal with that.”

“Well, if people are out of it for any amount of time, and if Randy’s not exhausted by the time they deal with the Sorcerer, he can help fix some of the worst of it. I mean, he usually doesn’t, but he could try.”

Jazz just looked at him, waiting for an explanation. He _couldn’t_ mean Randy was going to haul masonry out of the streets.

It took Howard a few seconds to see the question on her face. “Ninja Art of Healing,” Howard said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s not just for healing people. Randy totally put together Bash’s minibike after he destroyed it.”

Jazz wasn’t sure how Howard had expected her to know that. “So could he at least fix the school? The worst of it? Can we make it just look like a monster attack?” A bad monster attack, granted, but if they could at least contain the memory of the Sorcerer….

Howard shrugged. “Maybe?”

Jazz turned desperately to the ninja nearest her. It mimicked Howard’s shrug but nodded, which Jazz took to mean ‘it should be possible’. She sighed in relief. One hurdle was passed. “And the mind wiping Randy was talking about? What can we do about that?”

The ninjas nearest her looked at each other and then back at her. Beside her, Howard said, “I don’t blame them. You lost me on that one, too.”

Jazz pursed her lips. “Then fill me in a bit better on how this mind wiping works.”

“I told you what I know! The only other thing is that the Ninja always has to mind wipe himself when he’s done, but I thought Randy had already told you that.”

“He did. He just didn’t….” Jazz let out a frustrated groan. “Can’t you tell me anything more about this ultimate lesson thing?”

The dragon in the corner snorted, smoke curling from its nostrils. “There’s not really anything else to tell,” Howard said. “Randy managed to trick Mac Antfee into mind wiping himself by switching the label on the door. That’s about it.”

“What label? What door? It would help to at least see it, but if I can’t….” Jazz trailed off. The curling smoke was growing exponentially thicker. Dark, heavy streaks and shimmering white obscured her vision. She couldn’t even see Howard. Her sense of disorientation grew, and she reached out blindly. Her fingers brushed a wall— _she’d been standing in the middle of the room_ —and as quickly as it had built up, the smoke dissipated.

Howard and one of the ninjas stood with her in a long hallway lined with doors. Directly in front of her was one with a clear label: **THE ULTIMATE LESSON**. 

“Hey, you found it,” Howard said. He walked up to it, saying, “As far as I know, all Randy does is—”

Jazz blinked, not entirely sure if she’d imagined the sudden flash of light. She couldn’t have; Howard was climbing to his feet when he’d been on them a moment before. “Hey, you found it,” he said. He stretched out one hand, saying, “As far as I know, all Randy does is—“

By the time Jazz opened her eyes again, Howard was on his feet. “Hey, you found it.” He reached toward the door, but she caught his arm.

“Yeah, I know,” she said. “I have an idea of how it works now.”

Howard scrunched up his face. “But I thought you didn’t and that’s why the Nomicon let you come here.”

“It doesn’t rewrite or try to fill anything in on its own; it pulls the gaps together at the edges and lets your mind fill in the rest of the hole itself.” The mind did that frequently with memories, using what you did remember well to get its best approximation of the rest. “There’s disorientation, but it’s momentary. We won’t have time to set up anything elaborate.” Jazz turned to the ninja. Gesturing at the door, she asked, “The next time we open the Nomicon, can you push this force outward instead of pulling us in?”

The ninja nodded.

Jazz smiled. “Great. And from what I understand, you can selectively erase memories. This can’t be anything more than a monster attack. Can you do that?” 

The ninja nodded again.

Jazz didn’t bother to hide how relieved she felt. “Thanks.” Glancing back at Howard, she asked, “So how do we get out of here?”

The look that flashed across Howard’s face was answer enough. He didn’t know, not with any certainty. But before Jazz could turn back to the ninja to ask him, she was pushed backwards, falling where there had been a wall a moment before, and the world dissolved into a dizzying array of symbols.

-|-

McFist saw the Manson girl stretched out on a cot and grimaced. If she was hurt—seriously hurt, anyway—Marci would skin him alive. Well, at the very least, she’d have their cooks make all the kinds of food he didn’t like. She had a hundred little ways of making his life miserable if she wanted to.

At least Bash was still here, talking with some kids McFist thought were his friends—he vaguely recognized them, anyway—and Viceroy stood by the snack bar, clearly waiting for him. He wasn’t sure they’d get out of here, but he _was_ sure they needed to. He wasn’t so sure the Ninja had this one in hand.

That was the point, of course—this was the Sorcerer; granting his freedom was what the whole ‘destroy the Ninja’ thing was all about—but seeing as it hadn’t been McFist’s grand plan that had freed him, it was not likely to go well for him.

He wasn’t sure what was actually worse at this point, the Sorcerer getting out without his help while the Ninja was still running around to stop him or the Ninja succeeding in stopping him _because_ he was still running around. In the short term, the Sorcerer being back in the pit wouldn’t be so bad. But McFist had the feeling the Sorcerer had a long memory. If the Ninja foiled the Sorcerer’s plans now, the Sorcerer would blame him for not destroying the Ninja first.

Especially after he’d said he knew the identity of the Ninja. Why had he ever said he knew the identity of the Ninja? He should’ve known Viceroy would get it wrong again.

“I just need a few moments with Viceroy,” McFist repeated. Jack Fenton was a hard man to shake off. McFist had hardly taken three steps in the last twenty minutes. 

“But you’ve hardly told me anything about that sorcerer ghost. That Ninja, the way he goes after the Sorcerer….” For a moment, Jack was blessedly silent. Then, “There have to be stories! Whaddaya say you tell me all the ones you know?”

“I _don’t_ know any.” He’d been saying as much for the last ten minutes at least.

“Sure you do! C’mon, the Ninja, the Sorcerer. You even said there were some Norrisville ghost stories. Why not share, between one hunter and another?”

McFist was finally saved when Maddie joined them. “Pardon me, Mr. McFist, but I need to steal my husband for a moment.”

“Of course,” McFist said, making his escape before Jack found some reason for him to hang around. 

It still took him a little while longer to work his way towards Viceroy. When he did, he swiped a cookie off the table and hissed, “If you don’t have a plan, come up with one!”

Viceroy took a long drink from his plastic cup. “I don’t need to have a plan.”

“You have to have a plan!” McFist snapped.

Viceroy shook his head and pointed with his glass to the pile of empty boxes that had been stored in a corner. McFist recognized that enthusiastic kid— _Tucker_ —who had practically begged for their autographs when he’d first come in. A moment later, he saw Jazz’s head pop up above the boxes, and he could see the hair, though not the face, of yet another kid. 

“What do they have to do with anything?” demanded McFist. He was tired of not having answers, tired of worrying when he could do next to nothing. He just wanted this over and done with in a way that was in his favour. Was that so much to ask?

“Oh, they have everything to do with it. They’re coming up with the plan. I’m not privy to the details, but Tucker’s already taken out your security cameras. He and the Fenton children—with your Manson girl—must be quite used to doing this in Amity Park under their parents’ noses.”

“We’ve gotta trust a bunch of kids to save us?” McFist repeated. He decided to ignore the comment about the cameras now. He trusted Viceroy would have a good reason for letting that slide, and he knew the man could get them back to working order in no time once he tried.

“And the Ninja,” Viceroy said, “and a ghost. If we survive their attempt to seal away the Sorcerer, then we’ll survive the next few conversations we have with the Sorcerer. We don’t have any control over what the children are doing, after all. Not when we’re watched by so many eyes.”

“So we, what, just pretend we don’t know anything?”

“Oh, you won’t have to pretend, sir.”

McFist frowned, trying to decide whether or not Viceroy was insulting him. “So…. What do we do? Take the jet, don’t take the jet?”

“I’ll keep an eye on the kids,” Viceroy said. “You can fetch Bash and the Manson girl and go home. Marci won’t want to be kept waiting any longer, and I’ve spoken with Maddie; she says the girl’s just asleep and there doesn’t appear to be any lasting damage. From the impression I get, the girl’s parents are aware of her impulsive behaviour.”

McFist grunted. He knew the type of people the Mansons were; he’d met enough of them. Situations like that—where some behaviour of any member of the family was deemed reckless or unacceptable—made him remember just how lucky he was to have Marci, who didn’t try to stop him from hunting down the Ninja. Or from employing someone who had tried to destroy not only the world but also the known universe just to be valedictorian when he graduated university. It was good, that support.

“I’ll call you if there’s a sudden change in plan,” Viceroy added. He took another long drink and emptied his glass. Some part of McFist’s mind realized that was a dismissal. He was being dismissed. By his subordinate. 

If he didn’t need Viceroy so much right now, he’d be tempted to fire him just to prove a point. Although then he’d have to find someone else to design Ninja-killing robots—again. Mort Weinerman really wouldn’t cut it. 

And judging by the slight smirk on Viceroy’s face, he knew exactly what McFist was thinking.

McFist scowled. “Just make this go away!” And though the crowd was thick, people took one look at his angry face and cleared a path for him, so he was still able to storm off before hearing Viceroy’s reply.

-|-

Danny sent another ectoblast at the Sorcerer and didn’t quite manage to avoid being swatted into a building. He’d figured Randy would have turned up by now, but he hadn’t heard _anything_. Some of that might be payback for not discussing what he’d planned to do earlier, but, man, a fight was _not_ the time to hold grudges. 

Danny turned invisible as he flew back out into the fight, but he didn’t need to see the Sorcerer’s smirk to know that invisibility still wasn’t an advantage with this guy. Intangibility was, to a certain extent, but Danny was a lot more used to being corporeal than not, and being constantly intangible took a lot of energy, more than he was willing to spare. If Randy didn’t show up soon, Danny was going to have to try Spectra’s reflecting thing on his own, with no one to take immediate advantage if it actually worked for him as it had for her.

With a cry, Danny dove for the pavement and turned intangible, hoping the Sorcerer wasn’t smart enough to move. Erupting from the ground with a good punch only worked if it landed. Otherwise, it left him exposed when Randy wasn’t here to take the heat off of him. But he was kinda running out of options.

When Danny surfaced, he hit nothing but air. In the few seconds he’d been underground, however, Randy had returned—with five ninjas made of sand. Danny blinked, but they didn’t go away, and in the meantime one of them jumped toward the Sorcerer and got blasted into dust. Well, sand. But it almost immediately began pulling itself together to reform, much like the Lunch Lady’s meat monsters.

“Wha—?”

Three Ninja Rings shot past Danny in quick succession. “Earth Attack,” Randy said as he hurtled past behind them, his suit blazing red as he sent a volley of fireballs in the Sorcerer’s general direction. 

“How many elements can you control?” Danny muttered, though he really didn’t expect an answer, not when the Sorcerer was so close. Randy was boastful, but he wasn’t stupid enough to answer. 

“Learning more all the time!” 

At least it was a vague answer. Danny rolled his eyes and added ice to the mix. With the sand ninjas as part of the fray, they were at least keeping the Sorcerer on his toes. Danny wasn’t aiming for the Sorcerer, though. Throwing ice and fire at the same time was bound to be counterproductive. No, he was aiming for the Sorcerer’s little rat friend who had gotten free again. The ice wouldn’t hold him for long, especially not if the Sorcerer transformed him, but it would hold him for a while. Hopefully for long enough. 

Swivelling, Danny switched his attack and sent an ectoblast at the giant spider that had once been a student. The creature hissed and retreated as it had last time, but Danny knew they had no guarantees that the Sorcerer wouldn’t call on it and the other monsters to attack them. 

The sand ninjas were definitely helping, but they couldn’t keep this up. They needed to move. The Sorcerer was losing ground, but only inches at a time, and if they couldn’t get him nailed soon, they hadn’t a hope of beating him back all the way to the pit. If they could at least knock him down, Danny could fly him some of the way to the school before he recovered enough to fight back.

Danny’s opportunity came when the Sorcerer was hurling a ball of energy at Randy. Danny swooped down in front of him, holding out the power ball as he’d seen Spectra do. The orb absorbed the stank, glowing so brightly Danny had to squint, and he hoped it would spew the Sorcerer’s own power back at him sooner rather than later.

_Power._

Danny nearly dropped the orb in surprise. He didn’t recognize the voice, exactly, but it sounded familiar, like he _should_ recognize it.

The whisper came again. _Control. Triumph. Revenge. Recognition._

Images flashed through Danny’s mind, at first too quickly to make out and then more slowly, deliberately. He was in the Ghost Zone, wearing the Ring of Rage and the Crown of Fire, his former enemies grovelling before him. The scene changed, and he floated above an assembly in Amity Park, the crowd below silent and cowering. Another change, and he surveyed the remains of what was clearly once a laboratory, the normally-pristine suits of the Guys in White scorched and dirtied. Then he stood in the school cafeteria with Sam by his side, wearing a letter jacket— _his_ letter jacket, he knew instinctively—and other girls from his school ogled him while Bash and others who had bullied him lay bruised and bloodied on the floor before him. The students cheered when he transformed; Valerie’s ectogun dropped from her hands as she fell to her knees in shock. 

_Success._ He was attending a ceremony where the next space probe was named in his honour, Jazz admitting that he was the genius Fenton child after all. _Retribution._ He was handing Vlad— _Vlad_!—an eviction notice before the mansion behind them burst into flame. _Acceptance._ His parents, weeping, took Danny Phantom into their arms. Danielle stood with Jazz, beaming.

_Acceptance is the key_ , the voice whispered. _Embrace power. Embrace greatness. It can be. It can all be. Let the world fall to darkness and be reborn in fire under your hand. Let the shadows reign. Release entropy and let the world bow to you. Accept your destiny, your future._

_Future._ Danny finally placed the voice now. It was some twisted version of his own voice, more akin to that of his evil future self’s than his current one. He latched onto that thought, used it as a lifeline to come back to himself, away from the images which were both tempting and disturbing, away from the sickly sweet cajoling of the voice, the tempting of the devil. 

_Fulfill your potential_ , the voice coaxed.

“I _am_ ,” grunted Danny, though he wasn’t sure if he spoke the words aloud. “And it doesn’t involve giving in to some evil, chaotic force like _you_.” He focused on the Sorcerer’s power writhing within the orb, focused on expunging it and forcefully expelling it. He was knocked backwards when it finally gave, sounds he’d never even missed flooding back as he collided with Randy.

Randy vaulted over him and hit the Sorcerer with a Ninja Air Fist, trying to keep him down. Danny’s eyes were drawn to the orb, still faintly pulsing green and slowly rising to join the others. Loathe though he was to touch the thing again, he grabbed it, immediately encasing it in a thin layer of ice. It dulled the whispers to murmurs in the back of his mind. He’d nearly lost himself, swept up in possibilities, some of them featuring things he wasn’t sure he wanted. Not how they’d been depicted, anyway.

Was this what it had been like for the Sorcerer? Randy had never really explained how he’d come to be. Maybe he didn’t know. But Danny was quite sure right now that those orbs had had something to do with it, and that Spectra had counted on either him or Randy trying this—just like Randy had said—and had been hoping they wouldn’t have been able to fight it off.

The Sorcerer’s power had probably kickstarted the thing somehow. It was reason enough for Spectra to save him, giving the orb one less way to get to her and giving her the perfect opportunity to hand him enough rope with which to hang himself. If his timing had been off by a split second, it would’ve been Randy in his place. And if Randy hadn’t had enough sense to warn him about Spectra’s potential plot in the first place….

“Blast him, Phantom!”

Danny looked up at Randy’s yell and shot off a strong ectoblast in the Sorcerer’s direction. He tucked the power ball away and flew to catch up with Randy. A chance coordination of fireball and ghost ray seemed to work to their advantage, slowing the Sorcerer down. _The Ninja who believes in his strength alone is the weakest of all_. Their collective attack _had_ been more powerful than any of their attacks by themselves. There was a word for that, Danny knew. Jazz would know it in a moment, but he couldn’t think of it right now.

Danny grabbed Randy’s hand as he swooped past. To Randy’s credit, it didn’t faze him; he just lobbed a Ninja Electro-Ball at the Sorcerer, the arcing electricity dying down just as Danny reached him and grabbed hold of his belt with his free hand. And then he _flew_ , leaving Randy to hurl whatever he could at the Sorcerer at this speed and hoping the speed itself was enough to disorient the guy. He concentrated on keeping himself and Randy intangible while keeping the Sorcerer tangible, hoping that that way, the Sorcerer’s attacks might not land.

The world swept by at a blur. They reached the high school, and Danny slowed, exhausted, dropping his intangibility and nearly dropping Randy and the Sorcerer, too. 

He never saw the lightning strike him. He was just suddenly aware of pain, pain that reminded him entirely too much of the portal accident, and then there was nought but blessed blackness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's curious, the word Danny was looking for is 'synergy'. Thanks to everyone who's been reading and especially to those who've been commenting!


	32. Chapter 32

Tucker pushed the Nomicon towards Howard. “Hold onto this,” he instructed. They’d filled him in on what had happened, and if he had to choose an assistant to help him do what he needed to do, it had to be Jazz. He wasn’t sure he wanted to trust Howard’s descriptions. Besides, Jazz knew her parents’ setup.

“Dad’s amplifier?” Jazz asked, already thinking ahead.

Tucker hesitated. It would probably be useful, but— “Won’t that collapse the Ghost Shield and kinda give away the game?” 

“Not if we keep it running.”

“You want me to work on something while it’s on?” Tucker shook his head. That was not a suggestion he had ever expected to come out of Jazz’s mouth. “Nuh-uh. I was there when Danny got his powers, remember?”

Jazz rolled her eyes. “It’s not going to electrocute you. Dad showed me how his splitting attachment worked; we can block off the flow to give you room to work.”

“Yeah, until right at the end.” But if they had to kill the Ghost Shield for a minute—seconds, really—the momentary flicker _shouldn’t_ be the end of the world. At least, not if their timing was right and Randy and Danny got the Sorcerer sealed away. Otherwise, he might take it as a sign of weakness and attack them when they had nowhere to run.

But considering the Fenton Ghost Shield was a _ghost_ shield, they kinda ran that risk anyway.

Tucker sighed. “So where exactly is the amplifier anyway?”

Jazz hesitated, and Tucker’s heart sank. If she knew, it wasn’t good news. “I wasn’t here when it was put up, but it’ll be up high. You’ll need to get up to the top of the building.”

He’d spent enough time poking around Viceroy’s security systems to know that he’d installed different security codes on every floor, with multiple locks on more important areas that Tucker had assumed related to some of their unofficial Ninja-hunting divisions. No one has that heavy duty of a lock on a regular storage area. This was going to take him some time.

Tucker glanced around and saw Viceroy watching them. He quickly looked away again. “I don’t know how long it’s going to take me to build an interface,” he admitted. “I don’t have the blueprints for the amplifier on my PDA. I’m gonna have to study it before I can even start trying to figure out what I need to do.” It was really just as well he didn’t have the blueprints on it, though; he wasn’t sure he wanted to trust his own PDA after Viceroy had handled it until he had time to do a thorough examination. He still had a backup on him, of course, but he couldn’t switch between the two while Viceroy was still watching him. “And that’s assuming we can even get to the amplifier without being stopped.”

Howard held up one finger. “Hold on. I might be able to help with some of that.” He dug out his cell phone, dialled, and then said, “Hey, Mort?”

Tucker exchanged glances with Jazz. She shrugged.

“You’re still at work, right?” A pause. “No, I’m not in school. Have you looked out a window recently?” A longer pause. “What? But you can’t— _Fine_. But not right now. Just come downstairs. There’s a crisis centre thingy set up in the loading dock warehouse thing.”

“Storage bay,” Jazz corrected.

“Whatever. Just come down.” Howard’s eye must have caught the snack table, because he added, “There’s cookies.” He rolled his eyes. “Okay, there _are_ cookies. Happy?” He groaned and hung up the phone. “He’s coming. And I think I just got myself grounded so this _better_ be worth it.”

“Grounded?” Tucker echoed.

“I called my dad. He works for McFist. You can swipe his key card when he’s lecturing me or something. I don’t know how far it’ll get you, but it’ll be better than nothing.”

“Your dad works for McFist?” Jazz repeated.

“Yep.”

“And that doesn’t…bother you?”

“Nope.”

“Even though he’s working for the company that’s actively trying to destroy your best friend?”

Howard snorted. “C’mon, cut me some slack. The worst thing that happened when Mort was designing McFist’s robots was that Randy wonked up and got him demoted before the pool was finished.” He handed her the Nomicon. “Here, hold this. I wanna grab some snacks.”

“His dad designed robots meant to destroy his best friend?” Jazz didn’t sound like she entirely believed Howard could be taking that so calmly.

“Your parents are technically trying to destroy Danny,” Tucker pointed out. 

“Yeah, but we’re all making sure they don’t actually succeed,” Jazz countered. She shook her head. “All right, clearly that doesn’t matter. Just…. It’s a little hard to believe.”

“Again. You shouldn’t be talking.”

Jazz rolled her eyes, but one hand delved into her pocket and pulled out his cell phone. She handed it to him and said, “Here, I got this back from Debbie. You might need it. I’m going to check on Sam. She should be awake now.”

Tucker caught her arm. He’d heard Jazz’s unspoken _I hope_ , and he knew Sam wasn’t the only one he had to worry about. “You gonna be all right yourself?” She still looked kinda peaky to his eye.

“I’ll be fine,” Jazz insisted.

Fine. Exactly what Danny always insisted he was when he wasn’t. Those two were way more similar than they’d ever admit. Tucker let it go, though, and let her make her way through the crowd. Jazz was pushing herself because she knew she needed to. They all had to push themselves if they wanted to get through this.

He wished Sam were on her feet too, though. Not just because she was the best pickpocket of them all—so long as Danny didn’t cheat, anyway, and use his powers—but because he didn’t want this to be the time they stretched too far and someone got hurt. They’d had close calls back in Amity Park, more than he could count, but he kinda felt like he’d failed Sam and Danny both by letting Bertrand get the jump on him earlier, because that meant he hadn’t been there for them when they’d needed him.

It wouldn’t have been quite so bad if he’d gotten something out of it, but once he’d come to, Bertrand had already tied him up, and he didn’t talk much. There was a brief discussion with Spectra—something about her fetching some of the Sorcerer’s orbs—and some mumbling on Bertrand’s behalf that Tucker expected he hadn’t been meant to hear. Not that it made much sense; it was something about making some sort of exchange with Danny for the Fenton Xtractor and how Bertrand wasn’t sure the sample he’d collected would be sufficient and hoping Spectra wasn’t going to take it out on him if it wasn’t.

But once Spectra had come back with the Xtractor and—surprisingly—let him go, she and Bertrand had vanished. She probably hadn’t exactly endeared herself to the Sorcerer earlier if she had saved Danny from him like she’d said, but he couldn’t help but wonder what she’d gotten out of this. She would’ve gotten in quite the feeding at Norrisville High even if it _had_ been cut short, but this whole thing with the Sorcerer and the orbs….

He hoped she wasn’t laying a trap for later.

He hoped, if she had, Danny or Randy hadn’t sprung it.

Although, considering how well he knew Danny, and from what he’d gleaned of Randy, he should probably be doing something right now, because those chances weren’t great. 

Right on cue, one of the doors connecting the storage bay to the rest of the building opened. Howard caught Tucker’s eye and nodded before going off to talk to the man who had to be his father. The man’s key card was clipped to his belt. Tucker glanced in Sam’s direction and then began wandering in the general direction of Howard’s dad. He had to do this for his friends, and he had to do it quickly.

-|-

At first, Sam didn’t know where she was. She just knew she ached all over and wanted to roll over and go back to sleep. Except that it was so bright and noisy and—

“Sam?”

Sam couldn’t place the voice at first, so she made the grave mistake of opening her eyes. She shut them immediately before trying again, more slowly this time. It still took a bit of blinking before she was able to focus. “Jazz?”

Jazz smiled at her. “You’re finally awake. Good.” Jazz leaned in closer, speaking so quickly Sam almost couldn’t follow her. But from what Sam did catch, the situation didn’t sound good. They _needed_ her.

Jazz didn’t stop her from trying to sit up, which confirmed Sam’s suspicion. She had to scan the crowd for a few minutes before she spotted Howard, and shortly after that her eyes found Tucker. Sam glanced at Jazz. “Tuck’s going to move soon. If you’re helping him, you need to get moving.”

“I know.” Jazz glanced in the direction of her parents, and then her eyes darted to McFist and Viceroy over by the snack table. “But we’ll need you to cover us, Sam.”

Sam was used to covering for someone—usually Danny—but Jazz was typically the one to handle her parents for anything big. Still, she nodded. She wouldn’t be much good in the field right now. “Anyone suspect anything?”

Jazz pursed her lips. “Mom and Dad know that we’re fighting this, and they have to know Danny’s gone back out there to keep fighting, but I think Mom’s the only one that really bothers.”

“You mean she thinks it’s fishy that Danny’s supposedly so good.” Knowing Danny’s dad, Jack suspected it was just natural talent. 

“She doesn’t suspect the truth—how could she?—but Danny’s going to have a harder time of all of this once we get home.” Jazz sighed. “That’s partially my fault. I told her we needed Danny in the field, and frankly we’re lucky she hasn’t gone out there herself. But as far as everyone else goes, watch out for Viceroy. He’s helping, a bit, but Tucker doesn’t trust him as far he could throw him.”

“What about the kids? Anyone we need to keep an eye on?” If there was someone like Valerie in this room, Sam wanted to know before she started running interference. She’d have to save her best lies for the likes of them. It was more likely she’d be called on it if she tried anything like she had with Bash to get here in the first place.

“The only one who’s really been asking questions is Debbie,” Jazz said, nodding in the direction of a girl who had claimed one of the chairs by the far wall and was scanning the room like a hawk. Sam didn’t know what the girl was looking for, but every once in a while she’d stop and jot a note down on her notepad. “She seems to be primarily interested in the Ninja and his new helper, but I think it would be in our best interests if her notepad got misplaced before all of this is over.”

“Got it.” Sam picked up the shirt that lay at the foot of the cot—one of Jazz’s, from the looks of it—and yanked it over her head, knowing her own had definitely seen better days and not wanting to get asked questions when _she_ wanted to be the one asking questions. This was a better option than a jumpsuit, at least. Sam stretched carefully before deciding she was better than she had any right to be, and a moment later she swung her legs to the side of the bed and eased herself down. Danny might be the best thief among them because of his ghost powers, but Sam had fewer qualms about swiping something than he did, and she liked seeing what she could get past her parents.

A notebook wasn’t going to be a problem.

Jazz darted off in time to catch up with Tucker. Sam suppressed the fleeting thought that she should be the one in Jazz’s place. She had more than enough work to do here. They still needed her.

Jazz hadn’t told her exactly what had happened, only that Danny was no longer under the Sorcerer’s control. Sam hadn’t asked because she knew that however it had played out, it could’ve been better, but it could’ve been much worse. From what she remembered, she shouldn’t be feeling this well, but Sam wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Being alive and in one piece was all that mattered.

Her Fenton Phone was fried, but there were probably spares around the inventions table. She could nab one but keep it in her pocket until she got a better feel for the situation. She’d talk to Maddie—wearing the Fenton Phone then would be a dead giveaway, so she’d have to put it on after—and try to throw her onto the wrong track before talking to McFist and Viceroy. They’d be on to her now, but that couldn’t be helped. 

Sam’s mouth twisted. Her mother thought her social skills were atrocious. She just didn’t realize that the skills Sam was trying to hone were the darker, more manipulative ones instead of the ones that required her to play nice _without_ having an ulterior motive. 

She also didn’t realize Sam was getting better and better at it.

But if Sam got good enough quickly enough, Pamela would never have the chance to see the truth until Sam wanted her to.

-|-

Randy scrambled to his feet. Two sand ninjas erupted from the earth behind him. Danny might’ve flown them back to the school, but the earth attack wouldn’t stop until he ended it, not while he could still command it. Especially not when he needed defending. 

Like now.

As far as Randy could tell, they’d left the Sorcerer’s rat behind, and kids—and monsters—had long since evacuated the school grounds. In theory, the Sorcerer wouldn’t have much to call upon for backup. In theory. But he’d had eight hundred odd years to stew since Randy had last fought him, eight hundred odd years to run through their fight in his mind and come up with a counter to everything Randy could throw at him. He…. He still wished he knew that dragon attack First Ninja had used.

“Keep him busy,” Randy said under his breath. The Sandjas heard him or knew what he wanted because they sprang into action. Randy pulled out a mixed handful of Ninja Throwing Balls but risked turning his attention to Danny, thinking the Sorcerer should at least be blinded by the flying sand as the Sandjas broke apart and reformed.

Danny lay where he’d fallen. He looked surprisingly good for someone who’d just been struck by lightning, but considering Randy had never seen someone who had actually been struck by lightning, he was kinda guessing. But, physically, Danny looked fine. He was just out cold.

Hopefully— _hopefully_ —that was the worst the Sorcerer could really do to him right now. 

Except Randy had fought him before, and he _knew_ that the Sorcerer didn’t need backup to be a formidable foe. His power balls swirling high above them even after Danny’s breakneck flight was a reminder of that fact. Randy had no idea what had become of the one he’d given Danny. With any luck, it wasn’t up with the rest of them.

Randy reached out and shook Danny’s shoulder. “Phantom, you need to get up.” He knew he couldn’t spend much time here. Every second he didn’t join the fight was another second the Sorcerer had to completely claw away any advantage Danny had just gained them—and Randy didn’t particularly want to be struck by lightning or anything like that himself. 

Danny didn’t stir.

Growling, Randy turned and threw the Ninja Throwing Balls at the Sorcerer and followed that up with a volley of fireballs before he could even think. They came out more blue-white than orange-red, and Randy blinked in surprise. One of the Sandjas didn’t move quickly enough and was clipped by the last few fireballs. A lump of molten glass—previously an arm—dropped to the ground. The grass started to smoulder and Randy grimaced, mentally drawing back on just how much heat he was throwing. He hadn’t even known he could control them like that—as far as he was concerned, a fireball was a fireball—but that had felt more draining than Ninja Tengu Fireballs usually did. Besides, he wanted to attack the Sorcerer, not destroy his makeshift allies.

The Sorcerer looked at him, smirked, and then sent out a wave of energy that blasted the Sandjas to smithereens. Randy’s suit was covered in a fine layer of sand. He didn’t need to look to know that the Sandjas—those particular ones, anyway—had been reduced to small enough pieces that they wouldn’t reform unless Randy renewed his attack.

He totally planned on doing that. Just not right now, because he was trying something else, something he didn’t even know would work, because it was the only thing he could come up with. That’s why only two Sandjas had followed him here. He was kinda hoping the Sorcerer wouldn’t notice that, though. It was better if he just thought Randy couldn’t muster up a strong enough connection with the earth to call the others to him.

It was _infinitely_ better to be underestimated by the Sorcerer than to have the Sorcerer suspect he might be up to something and be on his guard. Randy had no idea how long this would take him, exactly, or how well it was going to work when he couldn’t just stand there and concentrate on it. He just knew he needed to buy himself some time—

Thunder rumbled overhead.

—and not be struck by lightning in the process.

Randy pulled out his chain sickle and began swinging it overhead in preparation of throwing it at the Sorcerer. He didn’t have a plan. He just hoped it looked suitably intimidating.

Apparently, it didn’t. “You are weak, Ninja. You cannot stand against me alone.”

“Oh, yeah? That’s what you think. Ninja Chain Sickle—”

The Sorcerer blasted Randy off his feet before he could finish, but he’d anticipated that and he’d already loosed the chain sickle. He followed this with a Ninja Electro-Ball, hoping that since he’d actually gotten the Sorcerer’s outstretched arm with the chain sickle, the spiking electricity might slow him down.

The attack bought Randy enough time to get to his feet. His suit burned red, and the Sorcerer laughed in his face before he could even loose a fireball. The chain sickle lay abandoned on the ground, its links broken where the Sorcerer had somehow managed to slice through it.

Randy tried not to feel too indignant or too angry, considering that this was all buying time, time he _definitely_ needed, time Danny needed to _wake up_ , and no doubt time Howard and everyone else could use to do, well, whatever they were doing, because the chances of them sitting this out completely were slim to nil.

Randy hurled a few fireballs nevertheless, forcing the Sorcerer to move closer to the school doors in order to dodge the ones he didn’t have time to deflect. Just as the last fireball died away, Randy quickly threw a Ninja Bee Ball—the Sorcerer couldn’t possibly dodge every single bee—and was about to follow it with a Ninja Cold Ball before he realized that might actually feel relatively good on the burns and the stings, so he changed his mind and tossed a few Ninja Throwing Stars instead. 

A few of the bees might’ve gotten through to the Sorcerer, but he didn’t shrink away from the swarm like Randy had expected. Instead, he lifted his hands and, with a flick of his wrists, sent stank flying towards each of the bees. 

For a split second, Randy thought this would kill them.

He quickly realized he was wrong.

Each stanked bee grew _at least_ five inches—usually more—and turned immediately back on Randy. He yelped in spite of himself, dove, and rolled. The swarm followed with surprising speed. Randy flipped around and shot a fireball at the bees, incinerating the majority of the swarm, and took out the remainder with a volley of Ninja Rings.

The Sorcerer must’ve just been _waiting_ for him to throw that attack since he’d seen it earlier when Randy had sicced the bees on Danny.

“You are nothing like the Norisu Nine,” the Sorcerer sneered. “How long have you been a ninja, Ninja? Your inexperience shows.”

“I’ve got more experience fighting you than any other ninja besides First Ninja,” Randy shot back. “And even First Ninja learned something from me.”

“You are but a poor imitation of your precious _First Ninja_. You will _never_ be as he was.”

Randy swallowed. “I don’t have to be him to defeat you.”

The Sorcerer gestured with one hand; green stank swirled above it. “You are a fool to believe you can beat me alone, Ninja. I have been growing stronger all these years that I have been sealed away.”

Antagonizing the Sorcerer probably wasn’t the smartest move, but Randy couldn’t help himself. “You work with McFist.”

“A means to an end!” snarled the Sorcerer. “Nothing more.”

“Yeah, but you still couldn’t get out by yourself, because every Ninja since First Ninja has made sure that you stayed exactly where First Ninja put you!” That wasn’t the best taunt, considering the Sorcerer was out of the pit now, but if Randy could at least get the Sorcerer talking again….

“Every Ninja except you,” the Sorcerer pointed out, sounding amused. “Have you received no training, Ninja?”

The Sorcerer knew he had the Nomicon. Heck, the Sorcerer knew exactly what the Nomicon was. He was just trying to bait Randy into doing something stupid.

Any other time, it might’ve worked. Randy wasn’t _that_ perceptive. He knew that. But right now, with everything that was at stake, he was hyperaware of _everything_ around him, from the shifting ground beneath his feet to the wild dance of the orbs above him—and especially to every word that came out of the Sorcerer’s mouth.

“I’ve received plenty.” Randy reached into his pocket and pulled out another handful of Ninja Rings. The Sorcerer would deflect them, but he had to attack. It would be way too suspicious if he didn’t. “Wanna see how much?” He wound up and threw.

The Sorcerer’s stank twisted itself into an arm and knocked every single ring away. Even knowing it would happen, Randy was kinda disappointed the Sorcerer hadn’t even taken one step back. Between the Sandjas and the fireballs, the Sorcerer had lost a little ground, but he’d gained a bit back, too—the bees really had been a bad call on Randy’s part—and they were far enough away that Randy wasn’t confident in his ability to throw or kick the Sorcerer into the pit. 

Comparatively, First Ninja had made this seem relatively easy. Not _easy_ easy. Just…doable with one person easy. Which was all Randy was right now. Even though, if the Nomicon was anything to go by, he’d fail if he didn’t have someone to back him up.

Of course, he hadn’t remembered until recently that he didn’t have the Tengu Stone with him. From what Randy recalled Howard saying earlier, Howard had it, not the Sorcerer. Which meant the Stone was where Howard was: back at McFist Industries.

Randy did not currently have a plan to get it here, but maybe, once Danny woke up….

The Sorcerer chuckled softly. “Are the people of this town truly naïve enough to believe _you_ are the First Ninja of Norrisville?”

Randy ground his teeth. “I’m the Norrisville Ninja. It doesn’t matter if I’m not the first one.” Not that anyone really knew that, except the current Ninja. Howard—and now the four Amity Park kids—were the exceptions. _Current exceptions_ , Randy reminded himself. The Nomicon might agree not to mind wipe the Amity Park folk right now because Danny had his own secret—and because they were helping, no question about it—but they’d _definitely_ get it once Randy was through being the Ninja.

He wasn’t sure how, exactly, but he was pretty sure the Nomicon—or the new Ninja or him before he mind wiped himself—would figure something out.

“A pale reflection of the true Norrisville Ninja, as I said,” jeered the Sorcerer.

Randy’s eyes went wide, but not with indignation. A pale _reflection_ ….

_The reflection becomes what it is expected to be_. 

The Nomicon probably still didn’t mean he’d _become_ First Ninja, not literally, but Randy did embody his spirit, and perhaps the Nomicon meant he’d finally grown enough to properly step into First Ninja’s shoes. Maybe it would be willing to show him the dragon attack soon—or at least something else new and equally as cool. Because even if the Sorcerer didn’t mean it as a compliment, he was right; the people of Norrisville did look at him—at _the Ninja_ —and believe that he was the same Ninja who had _always_ protected Norrisville, who had been there battling the forces of evil for these past eight hundred years and still would be for the next eight hundred to come. 

And if Randy was expected to be the Norrisville Ninja, a Ninja of First Ninja’s calibre, then that’s what he would become. 

He had to, if he expected to beat the Sorcerer.

Randy grinned, even though he knew full well the Sorcerer wouldn’t be able to tell. “It’s a real compliment to be called a reflection of First Ninja,” he said. “Thanks.” The Sorcerer looked exasperated and might’ve been about to make some comment questioning Randy’s intelligence, but Randy didn’t give him the chance. He rammed a Ninja Air Fist into the Sorcerer’s chest and went from there, throwing everything he had at his ancient arch enemy.

He had to get the Sorcerer back into the pit, or he had to die trying.

 _A hero sacrifices all to save the day_.


	33. Chapter 33

Tucker had gotten the key card off Mort easily enough, and the three of them had managed to slip deeper into McFist Industries without being caught, as far as Howard knew, but from there, he was pretty much blind.

It’s not that he’d never _been_ to the upper floors of McFist Industries. His dad’s office was still somewhere around the middle, but the Christmas party had been held on an upper floor, and Howard had gotten both invited up to and kidnapped and taken to Viceroy’s upper labs, so he figured he had a decent idea of the general layout. 

He knew where the important stuff was, at least. Like the snack machines. And the elevator.

“We can’t take the elevator,” Jazz said, as if she’d read his mind. “We can’t risk it.”

Howard groaned. “Aw, c’mon, it goes to the top floor. I know it does!”

“And we need to get to the roof without being caught. Which means stairs. We’ll have plenty of time to duck out onto a different floor if we hear someone coming, but I have the feeling the stairs aren’t used much here.”

“But the stairs go on _forever_ ,” Howard whined. He glanced at Tucker. “Can’t you just reprogram a Robo-Ape or something and say we’re on a tour?”

Tucker shook his head. “Viceroy will have upped the security on their systems, maybe added another encryption level for me to get through. I can do it, but it’ll take time, and I might trip an alarm if I’m not careful. Viceroy will know my techniques by now, and he might be able to slip in something I’d miss. That’s gotta be a last resort.”

Howard grumbled, but they took the stairs.

By the time they _finally_ got to the top, Jazz was the only one who wasn’t dragging her feet. “The roof access is locked,” she said. “We need to try your dad’s key card again, Howard. If that doesn’t work, you’re on, Tuck.”

Tucker nodded and went back to panting, still clinging to the railing for support, and Howard made the great effort of passing the key card to Jazz before collapsing back onto the steps. Maybe Tucker could turn on the Shame-Scalator for the way down. Anything so they didn’t have to go back down all those stairs again. His legs hurt so much he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get up again. He didn’t know how Jazz was still standing.

Howard really wasn’t sure Mort _would_ have access to the roof, but the little light went green and the door opened and no alarms started blaring, so he wasn’t going to question it. McFist had probably forgotten to downgrade Mort’s access after his robot designing days. Jazz held the door open; Tucker trudged up first, and when Howard didn’t move she hauled him to his feet, ignoring his groans.

The Fenton Amplifier was a rather unremarkable machine. Howard hadn’t even noticed it at first, not until he’d turned around and looked up to trace the green light back to its source. The amplifier itself looked like a square metal box bearing the Fenton logo. It was attached to _another_ square metal box with the same logo, presumably whatever generated the ghost shield. Translucent green spilled from the top box, propelled at least twenty five feet in the air—estimating was not Howard’s strong point—before widening and cascading down the ground in a dome. Considering how large this thing actually was, the machines were fairly quiet, giving off little more than a soft, high-pitched hum. It blocked out the howling wind, too, for the most part, so it was a good deal warmer up here than it would’ve been otherwise.

Despite how tired Tucker had to be, he climbed the ladder to the little platform above the stairwell access, and Jazz was right behind him with a wrench Howard hadn’t even realized she’d brought. Within seconds, the two of them were concentrating on the machine, Jazz pointing some things out and Tucker asking questions before either of them actually touched anything.

Howard left them to it, knowing he couldn’t help even if he’d wanted to. Instead, he tried to figure out whether the sky looked green just because he was looking at it through the Fenton Ghost Shield or if it looked green because of the Sorcerer’s stank. The shimmer definitely made it harder to pick out details, but if the forking lightning was anything to go by, the fight was back at the school.

The fight was back at the school, and he still had the Tengu Stone. 

Oops.

“Uh, guys?” Howard called as he turned back to them. “We’ve got a problem.”

“No, this’ll work,” Jazz said absently. “Right, Tucker?”

“Yeah. It’s all just energy,” muttered Tucker. “It should work since light’s in two forms.”

“Huh?”

“Wave and particle,” added Jazz, not taking her eyes off whatever Tucker was doing.

Howard blinked. “Do you guys wanna build my next science project for me?”

The comment tore Jazz’s eyes away from the machine, if not Tucker’s. “This might look impossible, but Tucker’s had some experience with the impossible. Trust me, he’s very good at making something work when it really shouldn’t.”

Howard wasn’t sure if she was saying that because she completely believed it or because she wanted him to completely believe it. “Uh huh. So you aren’t volunteering to help me get an A on my next science project.”

Jazz rolled her eyes. “Just make sure you’re wearing Fenton Plugs or at least Fenton Phones in both ears when we activate this so we know you aren’t affected, all right? We’re pretty sure this will work; we’re just not completely sure how.”

That was comforting. Not. But, whatever; Howard had bigger issues at the moment. “I need to get to the school. I forgot to give something to Randy.”

“Can’t it wait?”

“Not if he expects to actually seal the Sorcerer in the pit.”

“Take the Spectre Speeder,” Tucker suggested. He was still fiddling with the machine, presumably doing something important to it. 

“He’s never even driven the thing!”

“He plays video games. It’s not that hard.”

“Tucker! You can’t….” Jazz shook her head. “No,” she said to Howard. “You don’t get to drive. Sam will take you. All you’ll have to do is tell her where to go.”

“You know Sam’s crashed the Speeder even without being injured first, right?”

“Maybe so, but it’s always come back in one piece when she’s driven it.”

“ _Actually_ —”

“Shut up, Tucker.” Jazz levelled her gaze at Howard. “Fenton Plugs. You and Sam will need them to block off whichever ear doesn’t have a Fenton Phone. There are extras in a box under one of the bunks in the infirmary. Remember to take those, plus some extras to give to Danny and Randy and to have as spares in case something happens. Got it?”

Howard nodded. “Definitely.”

“Great. We’ve got the Nomicon, so let us know when you’re ready.”

“What if this doesn’t work?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Which meant she was making it up as she went, too, and wasn’t nearly as organized as she tried to make herself out to be. That was just fine in Howard’s books, though. He and Randy had messed with enough of Viceroy’s plans that he knew serious plans tended not to go accordingly. Jazz was, quite honestly, lucky that her semblance of a plan had lasted this long.

Howard decided to leave them the key card—he could always play dumb if he got caught by someone, and if it came to having to crawl through the vents, he at least knew they were booby trapped—and made the long trek back downstairs. Fortunately, that went without incident, but he definitely needed some cookies after all that. And some lemonade, since it was there and it was still cold. 

After fortifying himself at the snack bar, Howard scanned the room in search of Sam. He thought he’d have to keep moving to avoid Mort, but the man had been ensnared in a conversation with Jack Fenton, so Howard figured he was pretty safe. He did notice Viceroy watching him, but he couldn’t do anything about that. He _needed_ to get the Stone back to Randy, and that meant talking to Sam. When he did finally spot her talking to Debbie, he wasted no time in heading over to join them.

“Figure out the topic for your next article?” he asked when he reached them, not caring that he was interrupting their conversation.

Debbie scowled. “You never read it anyway.”

“How would you know that? It’s the _online_ edition, remember?”

“Yeah, but I’m not convinced you actually know how to read.” Debbie turned to Sam without giving Howard a chance to retaliate or fake being emotionally wounded at the low blow. “How long did you say Phantom has been around Amity Park again?”

Howard huffed, but Sam kept chatting with Debbie and ignoring him even when he tried to cut into their conversation again. He was all set to just grab Sam and drag her off when she suggested that she and Debbie grab something from the snack bar— _which was in the opposite direction of the door_ —when he noticed Sam’s hand slip into Debbie’s bag and pick up her recently-stowed notebook. Howard blinked, and in that time Sam had shoved the notebook into his hands. He jammed it into his pocket and cleared his throat loudly.

The girls ignored him, so Howard said, “Hey, before you run off, can I talk to you, Sam? Jazz said something about you guys having these Fenton Plug things—”

“Sure, I’ll show you where they are.” Sam turned an apologetic smile on Debbie. “Sorry, we’ll finish this later.” She grabbed Howard’s arm and dragged him off before Debbie had a chance to argue. “What’s up?” she asked quietly. “I haven’t even talked to everyone yet.”

Howard wasn’t entirely sure who she meant by _everyone_ but decided he didn’t care. “You’re supposed to take me to the school in the Spectre Speeder. I’ve got something Randy’s gonna need to seal the Sorcerer.” Then, since Sam wasn’t dragging him towards the infirmary, Howard added, “And Jazz said the Fenton Plugs were under one of the cots. We apparently actually need those.”

Either Jazz had filled Sam in or Sam knew better than to question something like that, because she didn’t even blink an eye. She just slipped around Danny’s parents, scooped up a handful of Fenton Plugs, and was leading him outside before Mort—who was still visiting with Danny’s parents—realized Howard was even there. 

It was little things like that that kinda emphasized how much longer she’d been doing this kind of thing with Danny than he had with Randy. Or, at the very least, that she took this more seriously than he usually did—but he liked to think it was because Randy typically pretended he didn’t need backup, and Howard saw no reason to offer it unless he had to.

“Are you sure you’re okay to drive this thing?” Howard asked once they were in the Spectre Speeder.

“I’ll be fine.”

“So Randy’s healing didn’t, I dunno, exhaust you? I was getting the impression that that’s what the Fentons figured.”

Sam sighed. “I’ll admit I’m tired,” she allowed, “but I joined the fight to be useful, not to be knocked out in the first five minutes.”

“You were on your feet way longer than five minutes.”

“You know what I mean. I’m used to backing Danny up. I like being out in the field, doing what I can to help. I’ve learned how much fatigue I can fight through without it severely affecting my aim. I’ve pushed myself too far before. I know where the line is between being an asset and becoming a liability. I’m toeing it now, but I haven’t crossed it.” She looked him up and down. “Do you have whatever you wanted to give Randy or do we need to pick it up?”

“I’ve got it.” Howard showed her the Stone before tucking it back into his pocket for safekeeping. “The Tengu Spirit is still inside, so I don’t _think_ it has to be broken and reformed for the sealing to work.”

Sam looked unconvinced. “Right,” she said, but she didn’t press the matter. Instead, she eased the Spectre Speeder out of the parking lot and over to the road. They might not _need_ roads in the thing, but even if it took longer for them to arrive this way, the Sorcerer wouldn’t see them coming. “Which way?”

“Left,” Howard said. He debated warning Randy they were coming, but if Randy messed up in the fight because of that, Howard would have to endure hours of Cunningham saying how they’d _nearly had him_ and how _it could’ve all ended so much sooner_ , and he didn’t particularly want to have to sit there and ignore all that when they could be playing video games.

Hopefully Randy and Danny were at least close with the whole ‘sealing the Sorcerer in the pit’ thing, though, because Howard _really_ didn’t want to just go and present Randy with a reminder of the bird demon. The things he did for his friend….

But that was _so_ not going to be one of them. Not again.

“Can this thing go any faster?” Howard asked. Now that they’d cleared the Fenton Ghost Shield and he had a clear view of the sky, things still looked like they could be going pretty badly—at least if the churning clouds were any indication at all.

Sam spared him a glance. “You buckled in?” Without waiting for an answer, she stepped on the gas, and they shot forward, the force knocking Howard back against his seat. Sam didn’t even bother asking for more directions, and Howard didn’t offer them because she obviously knew where to go. She was heading for the eye of the storm.

-|-

He couldn’t do this without backup.

Randy had _hoped_ he could, had hoped that that was part of the truth in the Nomicon’s message about reflections, but he supposed that was kinda negated by the whole part about believing in his strength alone making him weak.

He hadn’t had time to check on Danny again, though. He’d been too busy fighting and now he was too busy trying to figure out how to get out of his current predicament. Unfortunately, his options seemed particularly slim at the moment. The Sorcerer had used his stank to repair the broken links in the chain sickle and currently had Randy wrapped up so tightly he could only move his head. 

Fortunately, he was at least standing, though he’d hit the ground hard if the Sorcerer so much as sent a gust of wind in his direction, so that didn’t amount to much. Especially since it was quite likely that the Sorcerer _would_ use the wind against him; the worst of the gale was still high above them, shrieking through the tops of the trees like a banshee. Down here, close to the ground, the air was still—but that could change without a moment’s notice, and it was still cold enough that Randy felt chilled now that he’d been forced to stop moving.

Randy was still not entirely sure how he’d gotten into this situation, though. One minute he’d been fighting, attacking like his life depended on it—which it did—and he’d stopped defending himself, mostly because he’d thought the Sorcerer was too busy defending himself to attack. And then the chain had just been there, snaking itself around him and tightening to the point that it seemed to be cutting off his circulation and would probably leave bruises. 

Randy had managed to beat the Sorcerer back to the main doorway of the school (what remained of it, anyway; the roof was crumbling and the wall that used to house front entrance was pretty much completely open, its remnants scattered on the ground around them), but that stood for little now. The chances of the Sorcerer conveniently slipping on shattered glass or tripping over a misshapen hunk of concrete were slim to nil.

“Phantom?” Randy called out hopefully. He couldn’t twist his neck enough to see Danny out of the corner of his eye, but he tried again anyway. His body cried out to move, to shake off the pins and needles that prickled painfully in his limbs. 

“Your little friend does not do well with electricity,” the Sorcerer informed him snidely. “If he were not tied so strongly to this realm, he would have dispersed entirely.”

Randy frowned. He was a little surprised Danny hadn’t changed back when he’d gotten knocked out, but maybe the electricity had something to do with it. Or maybe he _could_ go unconscious as a ghost without changing back. Even having seen it, Randy still wasn’t entirely sure how that whole transformation thing worked.

He wasn’t entirely sure how long Danny needed to be out before he really worried over the fact that he was still unconscious, either.

“You have lost, Ninja,” the Sorcerer continued. “Admit your defeat, and perhaps I will kill you quickly.”

Randy wasn’t naïve enough to believe that, because he was pretty sure the Sorcerer knew plenty of ways to incapacitate him so he wouldn’t be able to get away but would still meet a slow, torturous end. 

“You haven’t won yet,” Randy insisted, but his words lacked confidence and they both knew it.

A huge arm formed out of stank grasped Randy around the middle and held him up. “Are you sure of that, Ninja?”

Randy wished fire could burn through metal _without_ severely hurting him in the process, but for all he knew it would burn through the Ninja Suit before it would be hot enough to melt the iron chains. His eyes darted to Danny and widened when he saw nothing but flattened grass and scattered debris. Danny was gone, which meant—

Randy flailed in the air for a moment as invisible hands gripped his shoulders and the rest of his body abruptly fell through the chains and the stank that had been holding him. He heard Danny let out a squawk as the stank arm twisted to snatch him instead. He was startled back to visibility and dropped Randy in the process.

Randy tucked and rolled, having plenty of practice colliding with the ground but still banging his shoulder uncomfortably on a jagged piece of stone and tearing his Ninja Suit as he snagged his left sleeve on a half-buried Ninja Throwing Star. Grimacing, he pulled out his sword as his momentum carried him to his feet. Above him, Danny had already managed to get free. As ectoblasts rained down from the sky, Randy slashed with his sword, forcing the Sorcerer to divide his attention between them.

Danny must have been playing possum for a while before he’d sprung into action because his movements were quick and efficient now, blending well with Randy’s attacks. The Sorcerer still blocked and dodged a lot, and he swatted Danny out of the air and tripped Randy up more than once, but forcing him to fight a battle on two fronts definitely worked to their advantage. 

The Sorcerer’s rat had been left behind, and the school grounds had long since been evacuated by children and adults alike. The weather was ominous and the lightning strikes definitely not random, but other than that, the Sorcerer was forced to fight with his stank or fight physically. Randy had no doubt that the Sorcerer had called back some of the stanked kids—presumably he had some amount of control over their actions like he had the time he’d used his power ball to possess Booray, even if it was reduced to mere suggestion with the monsters—but no backup had arrived for him yet, and that’s what mattered.

They needed to get this fight over with, and they needed to get it over with _fast_.

Their attacks worked better whenever Randy’s fireballs lined up with Danny’s ectoblasts, and the Sorcerer took a pretty good beating whenever Randy’s Ninja Air Fist rammed him into an ice wall Danny had formed. Randy interspersed his attacks with various throwing weapons, and Danny risked coming in for a punch every once in a while. 

He did that significantly less often once the Sorcerer managed to bat him into Randy, sending both of them tumbling and allowing the Sorcerer to regain precious ground.

“I’m going to try to blind him,” Danny whispered as he scrambled up the second time he was sent flying into Randy. “See if you can knock him into the pit then. And if that doesn’t work, well…. Cover your ears.”

“Cover my ears?” Randy repeated, sitting dumbly on the ground for a moment before regaining his senses. It didn’t entirely matter if what Danny said didn’t make sense; if he was going to try something that might help, Randy was more than happy to let him get in a good shot. 

Randy sent a couple of Ninja Electro-Balls flying at the Sorcerer to keep him preoccupied, following those with handfuls of Ninja Rings and Ninja Throwing Stars. Fortunately for him, the Sorcerer wasn’t able to redirect everything back onto Randy, even if he was able to redirect most of them. What didn’t clatter off stone embedded itself deeply into the ground, creating more obstacles for Randy to avoid.

Randy knew Danny was behind him and maybe somewhere above him, too, but though Randy wasn’t sure exactly where, he didn’t want to look. For one thing, he didn’t want to draw the Sorcerer’s attention back to Danny. For another, the last thing he needed was to be blinded, too; there was no guarantee he’d recover from that faster than the Sorcerer if he was.

As it was, Randy still had little warning when the huge ectoblast streaked towards the Sorcerer’s head. He shut his eyes tightly, but even once the initial brightness died down, he was still blinking spots away. Danny’s attack must’ve worked, though, because the Sorcerer made no move to dodge the Ninja Air Fist that propelled him back up the school steps and towards the remainder of the doors. Randy lobbed a few Ninja Glowing Balls and the odd Ninja Boom Ball for good measure—he should’ve thought of them earlier—to make sure the Sorcerer didn’t recover quickly enough to stop the follow-up Ninja Kick.

The Sorcerer hadn’t gotten to his feet before Randy’s right foot barrelled into his side. They hit a patch of ice that hadn’t melted from one of Danny’s earlier attacks and skidded until they hit a chunk of stone that had possibly once framed the windows. The jolt twisted them around and Randy was flung toward the pit in the Sorcerer’s stead.

“Get the Sorcerer!” Randy yelled when he saw Danny hesitate mid-dive. He was still sliding, scrambling to catch on something. At the same time Danny hit the Sorcerer with another ectoblast, Randy finally got his feet down and pushed out the Ninja Spikes from the suit and rammed his Ninja Sai into the floor—which may not have been the wisest move considering how often stunts like that broke his weapons, but it worked. 

Randy finally gave up on trying to pull his Ninja Sai back out of the floor and looked up in time to see the Sorcerer hit Danny with a punch that sent him flying into the remains of the north wall. The force of the impact left a new crater and stirred up dust, making Randy grateful his suit had a mask. Judging by the hits Danny had taken previously, this wasn’t going to be the one to take him out of the fight completely, so Randy charged at the Sorcerer again. He threw some Ninja Tripping Balls for good measure, and the Sorcerer laughed at him.

He stopped laughing when the one Ninja Tiny Giant Exploding Ball Randy had tossed into the mix burst apart, the blast cracking the already unstable floor and—more importantly—extending the gaping hole that led into the pit. As the floor beneath Randy’s own feet began to crumble, he whipped out his Ninja Scarf and wrapped it around some exposed rebar before sending a few Ninja Rings in the Sorcerer’s direction to be on the safe side.

The floor gave out beneath the Sorcerer’s feet, and he fell.

Randy might not be as strong as First Ninja, but he hoped he’d be strong enough in his own way to seal the opening before the Sorcerer broke free again. He’d still need the Tengu Stone, but in the meantime….

Randy glanced at Danny, who was groggily getting to his feet. Randy turned his attention back to the gap just in time to see the Sorcerer’s power balls plummeting into it. Great; giving more power to the Sorcerer was just what he needed. But it was too late to worry about that now, so Randy hurled a few Ninja Cold Balls at the edge of the pit, hoping the frost would spread into it. Instead, the ice did little more than coat the edges of the floor. This wasn’t good. Randy needed more time. Not _much_ more time, but more time than he had if he didn’t even give the Sorcerer a _little_ barrier to break through.

“You got him?” Danny asked as he landed beside Randy.

“Probably not for long.” Randy considered what he knew of Danny’s ice powers and figured it was the best shot they had. “Ice over the opening.”

Danny looked at him incredulously. “Are you nuts? Unless those chains down there are going to activate the moment the Sorcerer hits that rock and stop him from using his full power or something, he’ll break through my ice in seconds!”

“Just _ice it_!” He only needed a few more seconds. Assuming this worked. He wasn’t sure it would. He’d never tried to use his Earth Attack like this before.

But he couldn’t think of anything better.

Randy closed his eyes as the blast of cold air hit him, letting him know that even if Danny didn’t understand what he was asking, he was willing to trust him. Which was good, because knowing there was going to be some kind of barrier, however flimsy and temporary, was better than nothing. 

Randy wasn’t entirely sure how he knew to do what he was doing. To Danny, it probably just looked like he was waving his arms around. But it was more than that, _way_ more than that. He’d had the remaining Sandjas working on it earlier, and now was the time to follow through with it.

Mt. Chuck was a manmade volcano. There weren’t any real vents or channels beneath Norrisville that were exactly conducive to the transfer of magma, but a manmade magma chamber was still technically a magma chamber. And magma was still molten rock. And molten rock was still earth. Kinda.

It was close enough that between pulling at it and pushing other parts of the ground out of the way, he was still directing its flow, still _creating_ an underground channel for the magma to flow. He wasn’t entirely sure _how_ he was doing it, other than some fancy arm movements and guesswork, but he’d moved mountains in the Nomicon (well, _almost_ ), and the concept wasn’t different. Okay, it was, but it was close enough.

“Ugh, what are you doing?” Randy opened his eyes to see Danny covering his nose and mouth with one of his hands. “This stinks worse than your smoke bombs.”

“Sulphur,” Randy said. “Get back. Things are going to get a little hot in here.” He made one more sweeping motion with his hands, left to right, before bringing them up and parting the air as if he were swimming. 

The ground beneath them shuddered. The floor cracked anew, and steam burst forth, causing Danny to spring into the air. “Do you even know what you’re doing?” He spared Randy one more wild stare before turning his attention to maintaining the ice seal.

“Not really,” Randy admitted. “I’m kinda just going with the flow.” A crevasse opened between him and Danny and lava erupted, spewing to span the pit opening.

Danny yelped and flew higher. “You _are_ nuts!”

Randy shrugged and turned his attention back to his handiwork. Danny’s ice had melted, but the lava was already beginning to cool. It was only due to the Earth Attack that the lava had remained level instead of just falling into the pit, but as the first layer began to harden to rock—in record time, thanks to Ninja Forces Randy did not entirely understand—it provided a surface to sustain subsequent layers.

But none of that was going to be enough without—

“Yo, Ninja,” Howard’s voice called out. “I got the Stone.”

Randy turned, a smile growing beneath his mask, and saw Howard hop out of the Spectre Speeder, which hovered a few feet above the debris-strewn ground just before the school steps. He was relieved to see the driver was a determined if exhausted-looking Sam, since seeing her on her feet meant that he’d done enough to help her. 

“Catch,” Howard called, tossing the Stone. The throw went high. Randy jumped but fumbled the catch; Danny was the one who managed to get a hold of it. 

“What do I do?” he asked. “How did this work last time?”

Last time, they’d resealed the Tengu in the Stone and trapped the Sorcerer in the pit at the same time. It wasn’t going to work that way this time, not when the Tengu hadn’t been released. “Just try to get the Stone centred and push it into the floor.” 

Danny frowned, clearly unhappy with the quality of Randy’s advice, and thrust the Stone into the middle of the cooling lava.

The world lurched.


	34. Chapter 34

The force of the shockwave knocked Randy flat. He wasn’t sure if that particular impact was the reason he ached all over, but he was sure that the ringing in his ears could be blamed on it. He spent a moment just lying spread-eagled on his back, enjoying the warmth of the rock beneath him as he blinked up at the clearing clouds and tried not to inhale too much dust. 

From somewhere behind him, Howard let out a dramatic groan.

To be fair, such a groan wasn’t unjustified, but Randy had heard that particular groan out of Howard before for lesser things than this, so he knew at least some of it was put on.

“Did you know that was going to happen?” Danny asked, his voice sounding like he was still winded. He coughed before adding, “Because a little warning would have been nice.”

“I didn’t know anything for sure,” Randy said slowly. He took a deep breath and then pushed himself into a sitting position. “Is everyone okay?”

“No,” Howard muttered from where he lay, though Randy knew from his tone that he was just fine, all things considered.

“I didn’t break anything, but the Spectre Speeder’s going to need some work,” Sam said. Randy turned to see her staggering up the remains of the steps. She leaned on the remnants of the east wall before giving up and collapsing into a tired heap atop a pile of bricks. “The blast sent it rolling. I think the electronics are salvageable, but all the windows are busted and there are some major dents. I’d be in worse shape if I hadn’t still been buckled in.” She nodded toward the rest of the school and added, “How big is your school’s repair budget?”

Randy sucked in a breath and allowed himself to really look around. The (new) floor had obtained an imprint similar to the school’s carp mosaic without its colours and had flattened out surprisingly well. This floor merged seamlessly (miraculously, no doubt thanks to some Ninja or Tengu stuff he still didn’t entirely understand) with the remains of the actual floor, and by the same stroke of luck, he couldn’t see any sign of the cracks that had plagued the real floor. In a way, that made sense. Any crack would just be a weakness the Sorcerer could exploit. He wouldn’t truly be sealed away if there was a hole in his prison.

All the windows that hadn’t been destroyed earlier were ruined now, their panes standing empty with glass shards of varying sizes strewn across the floor. He vaguely recalled seeing a twisted mass of metal bars outside earlier, and in retrospect that was what remained of the frame for the inlaid glass ceiling. The lockers on the west side looked like something had rammed into them and pushed in all their doors—whichever ones still _had_ doors, anyway—but they were probably relatively easy to fix, all things considered. The doors to the hallways had all been torn off their hinges. Some of the rubble from the missing walls had fallen into the pit, but the rest lay scattered both inside and out—and not just in the schoolyard, but farther out. Looking out past the parking lot, Randy could still see the outline of fallen debris, no doubt carried that far by the Sorcerer’s storm.

He’d hoped the blast would have cleared away some of the dirt, but all it seemed to have done was spread out the dust so that the heavier debris had resettled and the lighter stuff still hung in the air, occasionally visible as the sun made a valiant effort to break through the clouds. His suit—and everyone else, now that he glanced at them—was covered in a fine layer of grime. The building itself, though….

The east wall of the main entrance was just short completely obliterated and the roof was entirely gone. The other three walls were mostly standing, certainly battered but seemingly still structurally sound—at least to Randy’s untrained eye. Part of the stairway had caved in, maybe when the roof had collapsed. Some of the columns on the upper levels had toppled, bringing down the floor above them with it. The place was a mess.

“Eh, Randy’s got it covered,” Howard said as he climbed to his feet.

Randy stared at him. The silence stretched; the wind from the Sorcerer’s storm had died away to nothing, traffic had long since ground to a halt, and no insects—assuming any were still around—were brave enough to announce their presence. “You’re kidding, right?” Randy finally asked.

“Ninja Art of Healing, remember?”

Randy’s jaw sagged for a moment. “You’re kidding,” he repeated, trying to convince himself of that and failing. “This is….” He waved an arm around, at a loss for words. “You expect me to fix all this?”

“Not all of it,” Howard said as he wandered past Randy to get a good look at the Tengu Stone half buried in the rock floor. “Just enough so that this only looks like a monster attack instead of the Sorcerer escaping. That was the plan.”

“What plan?”

“Jazz came up with a plan,” Sam answered. “That’s what you wanted us girls to do, remember?”

Randy scowled. “I wasn’t saying you couldn’t fight.”

Sam smirked, and Randy knew she’d been teasing him. Maybe that was her way of letting Danny know she was feeling better? “I know,” Sam said, “but Jazz did come up with something. Apparently the Nomicon can block out memories?”

“Yeah, for Ninja stuff, but—”

“It can do it for this,” Howard cut in. “Jazz asked. The Nomicon didn’t disagree.”

“Wait, she asked? Did you guys go _in_ to the Nomicon?”

“Yeah, and it’s pretty boring in there, Cunningham. I still don’t know what you guys do all day.” Howard eyed a piece of rock before kicking it and sending it skittering across the floor to bounce off a metal bar. He looked surprised he’d made the shot. “Anyway, it’ll wipe out memories of the Sorcerer, leaving this a monster attack.”

“A monster attack,” Randy echoed dubiously.

“A bad monster attack,” Howard allowed. “Something normal, anyway.”

Only in Norrisville could a monster attack be called _something normal_.

“We’ll need to destank the rest of the kids before they activate that mind wipe,” Danny said, finally joining the conversation. He had long since drifted over to settle in the centre of the mosaic, tracing the pattern as it arced away from the Eye as if he could hardly believe it was there, but he turned his full focus to Randy when he added, “I can get a jump on that while you clean up here. Without the Sorcerer there to keep that fear instilled in them, the Sorcerer’s hold on them won’t be as strong and it’ll be easier to change them back.”

“How come you get the fun job?” Randy asked. “Why do I have to get stuck on the clean up crew?”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Because you have this ‘Ninja Art of Healing’ thing and I don’t?”

“It works on inanimate objects,” Howard interjected before Randy could come up with some excuse not to be stuck on cleaning duty. “It’ll be fine. And Sam and I can limp the Spectre Speeder back to McFist Industries and make sure things go smoothly there.”

“You just don’t want to help me,” Randy huffed.

“I hate to admit it, but we’re not in the best shape to help you, anyway. At least, I’m not.” Sam stretched and winced. “I’m not going to be doing any heavy lifting for a while. We’ll need your Ninja Art of Healing to get the Spectre Speeder hovering again, though.”

“Fine,” Randy muttered. To Danny, he added, “But if you’re working alone and the Ninja isn’t in sight, aren’t we running the risk of spooking these guys and making it harder for you to destank them? I don’t know if they’re going to remember seeing us working together or not.” At least when they’d worked together in the school, the kids Danny had destanked had clearly seen the Ninja. 

Danny looked over to Sam. She shrugged, apparently having no better answer to that than he did. “You can always dress up as another ninja. It wouldn’t be the first time you done it. We’d have to find you one of those hats, though, to pull it off.”

Danny chuckled before looking back at Randy. “I doubt we have time for costumes; I’ll just have to risk it. I’ll let you know if it doesn’t work.” He flickered intangible and all the dust clinging to him abruptly dropped off. He skipped over Randy and did that for Sam and Howard. Randy realized now he must have used that trick earlier, back when he’d been soaked with water after scrubbing off all the Fenton Foam. Some things just weren’t fair. 

“What about me?”

Danny, apparently unconcerned about ignoring him, just said, “You’re going to get dirtier anyway, aren’t you?”

He hated cleaning up.

-|-

There weren’t as many monsters roaming around downtown as Danny remembered. He hoped that meant some of them had turned back to kids as soon as the Sorcerer was gone—or at least as soon as he’d been sealed—and not that they were hiding. He hadn’t spent a long time around them, but he’d gotten the feeling that these guys went in for making a big show and terrorizing people. That was the only way to create chaos, after all.

He’d have to check with Randy, though. The last thing they needed was to miss some of them.

Danny made relatively quick work of the monsters he could find. A few good hits destanked some of them, and the rest seemed to pretty much destank themselves once Danny made it clear that the Ninja had beaten the bad guy. He did notice that the Sorcerer’s rat had gotten free, though. He had a bad feeling that meant Randy hadn’t done anything more than slow the Sorcerer down.

“How’s it coming?” Danny asked as he settled on the unbroken arm of a sidewalk bench. He’d just destanked the spider monster. It had turned out to be one of the kids he’d run into earlier, the one Randy had found himself trapped with in the school before Danny had turned them intangible and gotten them both out of there. 

_“Slowly,”_ came Randy’s reply. He sounded exhausted. _“I can’t do this for much longer.”_

_“Speeder’s back at McFist Industries,”_ Howard reported. _“Sam’s talking to Maddie and Mort. I think Viceroy broke into your parents’ stuff, though. He’s been at the computer screen thing for a while.”_

“The media centre,” Danny realized. “He’s been watching us as best he can. You don’t have to worry,” he added hastily, thinking Randy would panic. “My movements will show up, but we’ve probably fried practically everything except the ecto-sensors. Especially after that shockwave.”

_“Where’s McFist?”_ Randy asked.

_“With Bash and Jack. He didn’t make it to the door before he was ambushed again.”_

“Tucker? Jazz?”

_“Nearly there,”_ Tucker reported. _“I think we felt your shockwave when it hit the Ghost Shield. It_ bulged _. It was freaky.”_

_“It should have hit us. Your shockwave, I mean. I assume that means you were successful.”_

Oh. Right. No one had actually told them. “Sorry, Jazz. Yeah. It worked. I think.”

_“It worked,”_ Randy confirmed. _“I don’t think it’s gonna stop him permanently or anything, but it worked.”_

_“Good. You all have your Fenton Plugs?”_

Danny frowned. “Fenton Plugs? What for?”

_“Howard!”_ Danny jerked at Jazz’s sharp tone—her _loud_ sharp tone. _“Didn’t you listen to me?”_

_“Hey, I brought them. It’s not my fault they weren’t handed out.”_

_“Not your—? Arg! We can’t do this safely if you aren’t—”_

_“Cool it, Fenton. It’s not the end of the world.”_

_“Are you even_ listening _to yourself? You can’t—”_

“Jazz,” Danny cut in. “Forget it. We’ll risk…whatever it is. Just act when you guys finish.”

There was a long stretch of silence. Finally, _“Fine. Danny, Randy, just cover your ears when we say to. The Fenton Phone should be enough but we don’t know that for sure, so please listen to me just this once and do what I tell you.”_

Danny swallowed. “I thought you were just going to wipe memories of the Sorcerer with this thing.”

_“And the Nomicon isn’t going to mind wipe me. Not again, anyway. Not until I’m done being the Ninja for real.”_

When Jazz replied—after what Danny suspected had been grumbling on her end—her exasperation was still clear, but it wasn’t enough to cover up the sharp edge of panic in her tone. _“I don’t know how this is going to work. I doubt_ you _even know enough about this book to know what its limitations are, Randy. I don’t know how selective it can be. Tucker’s rigged up a converter to send this out as a sound wave—that’s why covering your ears is important—but it would take a lot of power to differentiate between the people it hits, and I don’t know what the Nomicon is capable of.”_ There was a pause, then a quiet, _“We might not remember this when it’s over, Danny. I could be wrong about the effectiveness of the Fenton Plugs.”_

Danny knew what Jazz was saying, given what Randy had told them earlier. The Nomicon might take everything. Not _everything_ everything, but everything about the Sorcerer and truth about the monsters and the Ninja himself. It might take his newfound friendship with Randy and Howard—or at least most of the memories that built that friendship; he was left with a fairly shaky foundation for a friendship once all those were gone—and it would certainly take away everything that had happened recently. 

He’d be as clueless as someone who had been overshadowed, coming back to himself and looking around at all the destruction and wondering what had happened.

At least he’d had the choice of letting his friends remember, the last time he’d been in this situation. It wasn’t exactly the same—this wasn’t an alternate reality and nothing was going to start over—but it was close. And Jazz was admitting that even if she was trying to make sure that situation was the same, chances were just as good that they would lose every important memory that made this trip what it was.

Danny abruptly realized what the stinging in his eyes meant, and he wiped away the wetness. “It’s okay,” he said around the lump that had formed in his throat. “We need to take that risk.”

Danny half expected someone to chime in with reassurances, but the silence stretched until it was broken by Tucker. _“It’s ready.”_

Ready.

Danny swallowed again—he couldn’t rid himself of that lump in his throat—and didn’t wait for Jazz’s warning before plugging his ears. “I’m ready, too.” Randy echoed him, and Howard confirmed that he was already wearing his Fenton Plugs and had seen Sam slip in hers over the course of her conversation with the adults.

_“I’m going to open the Nomicon,”_ Jazz said, _“in three…two…one.”_

Danny felt the sound before he could really hear it, and he shut his eyes as it grew louder and overwhelmed him.

-|-

Randy had been running flat out towards McFist Industries, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten, when the whine in the air reached ear-splitting proportions. The one hand he had plastered over his ear wasn’t _nearly_ enough, and he stumbled and fell as the sound grew louder and higher in pitch until he was aware of it but could no longer hear it. 

Randy uncurled slowly once he realized it was over. He could still remember everything, of course, but he’d never expected to forget. Assuming this crazy plan had worked in the first place. He hadn’t done a whole lot more than repair the structural damage to the school to the best of his ability so that he could be confident it wouldn’t fall down or tumble over in the next gust of wind. It was a stretch to call it a mere monster attack, but if no one remembered the Sorcerer….

Randy sat up and reached up to his Fenton Phone. “Did it work, guys?” He heard nothing, not even static. “Guys? C’mon, Howard, you at least should be able to tell.”

No response.

No one was around, so Randy took off the Ninja Mask and pulled the Fenton Phone off his ear to look at it. He gave it a shake for good measure. It didn’t _seem_ to be broken, but he didn’t know much about technology and he knew less about the Fentons’ inventions. Randy put it back on his ear anyway—just in case—before getting to his feet and putting the mask back on. It was markedly cleaner than when he’d taken it off and the tears in it from earlier were mended, and he grinned despite himself. He might not have intangibility, but this was the next best thing when it came to getting his suit clean.

Randy began running again, weaving his way through the streets downtown. The area outside of the immediate battle zone wasn’t as bad as he’d first thought. Most of the damage came in the form of torn signs and smashed windows. That sort of damage was more likely caused by the storm the Sorcerer had called up than by the stanked kids or the Sorcerer himself. Well, barring the few windows that looked like they might’ve been broken into by people trying to get off the streets. That had definitely happened, and not just because of any pedestrians unfortunate enough to be in the area.

Cars were smashed into each other or into various lampposts and signs, even though some had clearly made the effort to pull off to one side before fleeing on foot. Most of the cars that were abandoned in the middle of the roadway were stuck behind one accident or another. The odd vehicle was toppled over, suspiciously crunched in a way that suggested it had been picked up and thrown as opposed to just rolling after a sharp turn or after hitting something. 

Until he reached the area where they’d fought, though, Randy didn’t see too much in terms of structural damage. There, the road was pockmarked with little craters from where he or Danny had taken a bad hit, and the buildings, if not sporting new dents or cracks in the walls, had at least gained some decorative Ninja weaponry. Randy couldn’t recall being thrown into a fire hydrant, so that must’ve been Danny, but the water that had fountained out of it earlier had soaked the street. Little more than a dribble remained now, and judging by the amount of ice hanging around, it looked like Danny had frozen the worst of it. Chances were, it had held until the blast of sound Tucker had sent out.

It was eerily quiet now, all things considered. Randy slowed and stopped in the middle of the street. He was _pretty_ sure his ears were still working after that, but all he could make out right now once he held his breath and ignored his heart pounding in his ears was the faint whine of the Fenton Ghost Shield in the distance. 

“Hey, Ninja.” Randy jumped and turned; Danny floated behind him, his wide smile letting Randy know he’d definitely spooked him on purpose. “We better get back. Want a lift the rest of the way?”

“Might as well,” Randy said, but before he could ask anything, Danny grabbed hold of his hand and it was all Randy could do to hang on. Danny shifted their tangibility whenever Randy was about to hit something—which still felt really weird but was considerably better than the additional bruises he’d have otherwise—and didn’t stop until they were just outside the shimmering green wall.

Danny dropped to his feet and changed back. “No cameras,” he said at Randy’s glance.

“Uh, right.” Randy pulled his mask off almost warily and looked at Danny, but the boy wasn’t paying Randy any attention at all. He’d already stepped through the Ghost Shield and was peering up at the top of the pyramid that was McFist Industries. Randy swallowed and stuffed the mask into his pocket. “Did it work?” he asked.

Danny turned to look at him as Randy stepped through the shield to stand beside him. Surprise was written all over his face. “Oh, hey, Randy. Did what work?”

A stone dropped into Randy’s stomach and he opened his mouth, not entirely sure what he could say. “Uh….” He hadn’t _really_ entertained the idea that Jazz was wrong and the mind wipe from the Nomicon would work too well, so to now be scrambling for an explanation that wouldn’t destroy whatever remained of his friendship with Danny….

Danny’s blank look remained for a few seconds more before he erupted into laughter. “Sorry,” he gasped after a good thirty seconds. “I just…. The look on your face…. _Totally_ worth it.”

Randy scowled, but he couldn’t stop the smile from tugging at the corner of his lips, too. It wasn’t quite on par with Howard’s pranks, but the sentiment was still there. “We might as well see if it worked on everyone else.”

Danny nodded. “Yeah. I think I got the rest of the stanked kids, unless they’re prone to hiding, so we should be good. It’s pretty quiet, though. Is it normally like that after a bad attack?”

Randy snorted. “It’s practically a ghost town.” Danny gave him a look, and Randy shrugged. “That wasn’t intentional. But after the initial screaming dies down, people try to keep quiet because making a lot of noise will just draw the attention of the monsters.”

“That’s why you usually announce your attacks,” Danny realized.

“Part of it,” Randy agreed. “Better me than someone else, after all. And like I said before, it kinda helps me focus. And it sounds better that way.” Danny opened his mouth, probably to contradict him on that last point, so Randy added, “It’s just how I roll, okay? Sometimes things can take a while to grow on you. Like the scarf. I was not sold on the scarf at the start, but now I’m convinced it looks totally bruce.”

“Uh huh.” Danny looked like he wanted to say more but was rightly convinced it wouldn’t do him any good. 

“So what happened with Spectra?” Randy asked as they started walking to the building. “Did she turn up again when I wasn’t paying attention?”

Danny shook his head. “No. As far as I know, she and Bertrand cut and run with the Fenton Xtractor. And two of the Sorcerer’s power balls. I’ll give you yours back later tonight, by the way. But I think Spectra’s wary of them. She probably knows more about them than you do, from the way she was talking. I dunno. She said she’d put them somewhere safe. She might’ve kept them here, just hidden somewhere else.”

“So don’t expect them to be by the lake or Mt. Chuck?”

“Pretty much, unless she’s trying to mess with you, which I wouldn’t put past her.”

“But what would she want with that extractor thing?”

Danny shrugged. “Beats me. It works best when ectoplasm is involved, and it’s not like she needs to suck a piece of…herself…out of something.” Danny’s words—and footsteps—began getting slower and slower until he stopped. Without needing Randy’s prompting, he said, “The attack. At the school. When Bertrand herded us into that janitor’s closet. Maybe that wasn’t just for McFist. Or, you know, some kind of distraction to buy time.”

“Uh, I’m going need more than that to follow you.”

“Spectra knew I was around. It probably wasn’t hard to figure out that my parents were here, too. Or that they’d hunt ghosts. Maybe she thought they’d arrive a little faster if word spread in the school that there were ghosts around.”

Randy wrinkled his nose. “Why would she want that if they’re ghost hunters and she’s a ghost? It’s not like it’s going to mess with you any more than normal, is it?”

Danny shook his head. “Mom and Dad chased her and Bertrand around. Dad was saying it was close, but he’s _always_ saying it was close, so I never thought anything of it. But if one of them was invisible, it wouldn’t be that hard to get that close to my dad, even with the Fenton Finder.”

Randy just stared at Danny, still mostly lost.

“She needed a sample of Fenton DNA. Specifically, my dad’s. At least, she’d need one if she had the Xtractor and wanted to get rid of the Fenton DNA she has in her.”

“She has Fenton—?”

“Remember when Tucker said Spectra wanted the perfect body? She made everyone in school sick once so she could cherry pick the best aspects of them, and she wanted my DNA to stabilize her new body. With Tuck’s help, I was able to slip her some of my dad’s off a snotty handkerchief instead. Yeah,” Danny added, no doubt seeing the disgust on Randy’s face, “it worked about as well for her as you think. It’s reason enough for her to want to get rid of it.”

“Why did you even have—?”

Danny grimaced. “Trust me, that part wasn’t my idea.” He was silent for a moment before he started walking again. “We can’t do anything about Spectra now, anyway. She and Bertrand aren’t stupid; they’ll be long gone. We might as well focus on McFist and Viceroy and make sure we both made it through this with our secrets intact.”

-|-

Maddie felt relieved as the sound of chatter rose within the room again. She’d expected scepticism after Jack had announced to everyone that the ghosts were gone and that it would be safe to leave. He’d already gone with Viceroy to disable and dismantle the Ghost Shield and its various attachments.

It had been a while since they’d encountered a ghost who attacked with sound waves, but the preliminary tests with the Fenton Ghost Shield had shown that it should withstand the onslaught. Clearly, their testing had not been adequate, and her mind was already whirling with ideas of potential modifications. For now, she would be grateful this final attack had been a last-ditch effort to wear down their defences and that it had—where it mattered—failed.

It took Maddie entirely too long to locate her children and their friends in the crowd. Sam had slipped off after the attack while she and Viceroy had been preoccupied picking up readings from the various devices they’d deployed via the media centre. Howard’s father Mort was still there, enthralled with the entire setup, and the girl who had stayed with Jazz back at the school—Debbie?—stood at his shoulder, taking notes on what looked from here to be a napkin.

But Sam, it turned out, had joined Howard at the snack table, and even as Maddie watched, Tucker and Jazz materialized out of the crowd to join them. She turned, searching for Danny and Randy. She was not entirely unsurprised when she finally spotted them near the weapons demo station near the exit; Randy had shown some curiosity about their weaponry, if not as much as Howard, and Danny was apparently more proficient with them than he’d ever let on.

Maddie supposed it had been wishful thinking to think that Danny wasn’t as enamoured with the supposed town hero as Jazz. He was probably the reason Phantom always seemed to be well-acquainted with their weapons. He was certainly the reason Sam and Tucker were familiar with them. Jazz was responsible for some of that, no doubt, considering how many dinner table weapons lectures Danny had slept through or missed altogether, but Maddie had little reason to doubt Jazz’s word about Danny’s skill. The fact that she and Jack had been unaware of the extent of his skill was something Maddie attributed to Danny’s silence and Jazz’s strategic vocalization. They had focused more of their attention on her, and not just because she would be the first to leave the nest.

It was rather disconcerting to think that they’d been played by their own children.

She certainly planned on talking to them both after this, but she had a sneaking suspicion little would change. At least this explained Danny’s perpetual exhaustion and everything else that had seemed inexplicable since the Fenton Ghost Portal had been fully functioning. It certainly explained why the level of ecto-contamination in his system was not dropping off even slightly as time went on; a near-daily exposure to ghosts without the proper protective gear would keep them precisely where they were.

Maddie pursed her lips. It was unlikely that she would be able to get Danny to stop whatever association he had with Phantom without forcing him to it; she’d certainly had no luck dissuading Jazz, though her direct association with the ghost was implied through the degree of her support (and Phantom’s detailed knowledge of their weaponry) as opposed to anything they’d ever openly discussed. Still, it was possible to turn this to their advantage. If nothing else, they’d learn more about Phantom than they had before and could perhaps devise a way of capturing him without immediately alerting Danny and Jazz.

“The Ninja’s gone. He beat the Sorcerer.” The words were spoken softly and could have nearly been swallowed in the murmur of the crowd, but it was distinct enough to cause Maddie to start. She hadn’t noticed McFist move to stand beside her. She hoped he had not been there long. 

She wasn’t entirely sure what McFist meant by the Sorcerer—what sorcerer? Did he know more about the plague that caused the mutations than he’d let on?—but his words about the Ninja were clear enough. “Yes,” she acknowledged quietly, remembering how he didn’t want his true sentiment to be publically known, “but I’ve no doubt he’ll be back. Perhaps, if we don’t agree to mass production—”

“Your equipment isn’t ready for that yet,” McFist said flatly. He raised his mechanical arm to point at the weapons table; Danny and Randy had abandoned their post in favour of meeting the others at the snack bar, and the table looked untouched. “Look. No one’s biting, even with you shouting about ghosts being behind this, and it’s not just because these people have devised their own methods for protection against monsters. They haven’t. But either it’s not intuitive enough or whatever your line was when you talked to these people didn’t convince them it would help. Or maybe they didn’t think it was easy enough to use. Figuring out why is your problem, not mine, but you’d just go broke if you tried to make this work on a larger scale.”

“You don’t think we could develop the market.”

“You might be able to carve something out,” McFist allowed, “but you’d need to hand test every single weapon you made to ensure your quality control. You’re better off doing what you’re doing until you can build up the market enough that your demand exceeds your supply. Once they’re crying for your stuff, then we can at least talk about streamlining the production process. Until then, work out the bugs you’ve got in your devices and then focus on making production more efficient.”

“And then we can talk?”

“Oh, we can still talk.” McFist’s smile was almost gleeful. “I want to hire you and Jack to draft some plans for Viceroy. He can use some new ideas, and some things, like those web guns of yours—”

“Net-guns,” Maddie corrected softly.

“Yeah, those. Those’ll work wonders incorporated into some of Viceroy’s tech. And these ear plugs of yours—” he patted his pocket, where he had presumably stored a pair “—are great when it comes to blocking out noise. I’ll buy a few extra pairs off of you for the next time Bash is practicing with his band. We can hash out all the little details later—Marci will have my hide if I don’t head home now that this mess is over, and I’ll have to take Bash and the Manson girl with me—but think on it, because I’m going to make you an official offer tomorrow.” As McFist spoke, the Fenton Ghost Shield flickered out, and the crowd began to thin as people headed out to ogle at and bemoan the damage in turn.

“Of course. I’ll discuss it with Jack tonight.” This was better than she’d hoped for, really. Jack would be disappointed—he wanted everyone to have access to their weaponry—but she wasn’t entirely surprised that McFist didn’t think they were yet prepared for a production increase.

“Great. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go find my son again.” 

Maddie smiled and turned to join her own children. Their chatter died away as she approached and more than one pair of eyes watched her warily. There was tiredness in all their faces, but none of them—not even Sam, and certainly not Danny despite being out in the field—looked as injured after the ordeal as she’d been expecting. Perhaps there was more tension in her son’s shoulders than normal, but that could be from the fear of discovery as easily as pain, and she wasn’t sure what _was_ normal for Danny anymore.

Maddie sighed, seeing the suspicion behind Danny’s blank face. “I’m not going to punish you for keeping secrets from us, sweetie,” she said, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug despite how embarrassed she knew he’d be, “but we do need to talk when we get home.”

They’d have to do more than talk—far more than talk—but for now…. For now, she could be content that he was back here with her. That he was safe. That he hadn’t broken anything, wasn’t limping, and didn’t even look bruised, let alone scorched by a stray ectoblast. Then again, the monsters—the infected children—hadn’t been able to use ectoblasts that she’d seen. They fought more with brute force than anything else, so perhaps that accounted for some of the lack of injury. Or perhaps she’d have to swallow her pride and thank Phantom for protecting her son here in Norrisville as he’d protected them all from greater threats like Pariah Dark in Amity Park before.

She’d get the story out of Danny when they got home, one way or another, with or without Jack, once she could convince him to trust her with the truth.

“Mom—”

And once she could convince Jazz that she could be trusted with the truth.

Maddie stepped back and held up a hand, cutting Jazz off. “You, too, honey. I’ve no doubt you will figure out some way around anything we do to try to stop you from seeing Phantom, but we can at least take precautions. And, Danny, I expect you to join my training sessions with Jazz when you don’t have detention.”

Danny groaned. “Mom—”

“Sam and Tucker are, of course, welcome,” Maddie said, looking at them both in turn. “Learning to fight properly and efficiently is useful for more than just defence against ghosts. Now, you better go with Mr. McFist, Sam,” she added as she saw Sam shuffle to try to hide from McFist’s line of sight. “Your parents will be worried about you.”

Sam made a big show of groaning reluctance and muttered under her breath, but she went. 

Maddie smiled at Randy and Howard, who were shifting their feet and looking distinctly uncomfortable. “If you two are still interested, we can see about setting up those targets Jack talked about yesterday.”

She didn’t expect an answer right away, but Randy glanced at Howard before nodding. “Sure,” he said. He elbowed Danny, who made a face at him and rubbed his arm. “It’ll be nice to see how we match up against these guys.”

Maddie chuckled. It was good to see her children making friends. She hoped they made the most of their time together, especially now that the danger of the ghost attack had passed. In a conspiratorial whisper, she said, “Why don’t I raid the emergency fudge supply and we can celebrate getting through this together?” They’d find reasons to slip away from her soon enough, but the revelation with Danny made her realize how much she’d missed with her children. She wanted to spend time with them and their friends while she still could, and bearing gifts of food meant they were far more likely to have her.

Sure enough, grins broke out on all five faces; even Jazz didn’t look ready to protest the idea. They could have a proper celebration including Sam and Jack later, but this would do for now. (Maddie was sure that, if she promised not to let Jack drive on their way home, the Mansons would agree to at least consider letting Sam come home with them.) 

Howard muttered something Maddie didn’t catch, and the boys burst into boisterous laughter. Jazz watched them with a knowing smile. The secrets might not stop—Maddie supposed the most she could hope for was for them to lessen—but she hadn’t seen her children this happy, this carefree, in years. The trip to Norrisville might not have turned out as she’d expected, but she didn’t regret the decision to come for a moment. The journey was worthwhile for this moment of joy alone, but what she had gained was worth more than that to Maddie.

Jazz and Danny had drifted away from both her and Jack; they’d nearly lost their children in one respect without stopping long enough to realize it. Maddie now saw a chance to regain some of the close bonds they’d had with their children that had been shed as the two had grown up, particularly in these last couple of years. It was certainly no guarantee, but the promise of possibility was bright, and that was enough. 

_Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's seen this story through, and especially to those of you who took the time to leave a comment or two or more along the way. I appreciate the support!
> 
> In other exciting news, [BlackInkGhost](http://blackinkghost.deviantart.com/) has made a comic for the first chapter of this fic! Here are the links to the pages: [1](http://blackinkghost.deviantart.com/art/Reflections-Page-1-567472934), [2](http://blackinkghost.deviantart.com/art/Reflections-Page-2-568068217), [3](http://blackinkghost.deviantart.com/art/Reflections-Page-3-569566329), [4](http://blackinkghost.deviantart.com/art/Reflections-Page-4-571411722), [5](http://blackinkghost.deviantart.com/art/Reflections-Page-5-575947161), [6](http://blackinkghost.deviantart.com/art/Reflections-Page-6-581242373), [7](http://blackinkghost.deviantart.com/art/Reflections-Page-7-586833256), [8](http://blackinkghost.deviantart.com/art/Reflections-Page-8-589768754), [9](http://blackinkghost.deviantart.com/art/Reflections-Page-9-608155606), [10](http://blackinkghost.deviantart.com/art/Reflections-Page-10-620119581), and [11](http://blackinkghost.deviantart.com/art/Reflections-Page-11-622602832). There's also a great [sketch of Danny in the Ninja Suit](http://blackinkghost.deviantart.com/art/Fool-them-616798297), [a scene from chapter 2](http://pre14.deviantart.net/1e89/th/pre/i/2017/029/6/8/reflections__chapter_2_by_blackinkghost-dax4qmp.jpg), and [comic page of Danny's and Randy's first encounter](http://blackinkghost.deviantart.com/art/Reflections-first-encounter-691226862)!


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